#angsting over the fact they have no graves actually | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

miley1442111 · 1 month

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fix it-a.hotchner

a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

please don't read if you have emetophobia!!!!

summary: aaron says some horrible things, can he fix it?

pairing: husband! aaron hotchner x wife! reader

warnings: mad angst, aaron is so mean, reader believes she is a bad mother, heartbreak, feelings of disappointment, jack is so sweet, reader is pregnant, talks of pregnancy, talks of vomiting and morning sickness, no happy ending :(

part 2- fix it together

It was all coming down to this. It was Jack’s birthday and as his step-mom, you had been party planning all week. He was having a dinosaur themed birthday with a bounce house and watching a movie in the backyard, like a little drive in movie. You were excited for him. Aaron hadn’t really been around much that week, he was busy dealing with some legal battle the FBI was up against, meaning the rest of the team, including yourself, had the week off. It was Friday night, Jack’s actual birthday and he was asleep in bed as you waited for Aaron to get home. You were reading a book Spencer had recommended you as you nursed a cup of tea, getting sleepier by the second.

The front door opened and there Aaron stood, briefcase in hand, handsome as ever. You smiled and got up from your spot on the couch, ready to greet him. He smiled softly as you hugged him, running a hand through his hair. “How did it go?” you asked, your voice just above a whisper.

“Oh it was fine, nothing too jarring. How was the week?” He asked, walking further into the house.

“Fine. Nothing to report. Jack’s asleep but-”

“Did you do something for his birthday?” He asked, cutting you off.

“Yeah, of course. I picked him up from school early and we went for lunch and to a film. He really enjoyed himself,” you smiled and he sighed. “Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, fine,” Passive aggressive. Aaron was being passive aggressive.

“Aaron,” You said, worry coating your words. “Is everything ok?”

“Yes! Everything is just fine,” He sighed again, sitting on the couch. “Just one thing though- you didn’t think to offer him to see his mom?” He asked, malice behind every word. The accusation cut you deeply. Of course you’d asked, but he’d said no. He said ‘I don’t want to go without dad’ because of course he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to go to his moms grave without his dad, and not on his birthday either. You stood there, stunned at his words. He continued. “Y’know, you promised me this wouldn’t be an issue, so tell me now, is this an issue Y/N? I need to know because we can still get an annulment.”

You gasped at his words. “Aaron stop-”

“No, you stop. You are not his mother. She is. She still is, even if she’s gone. You’ll never be his mother. You’re doing a good job of parenting but nothing compares to Haley. Thank god you’re not his actual mother.”

That was venomous. He was going straight for every insecurity you had around your relationship with Jack and throwing it in your face. He was hurting you.

The silence was heavy. Aaron finally looked at your face and saw the disgust written all over it. The worst part was the fact that he knew it wasn't disgust at his actions, it was disgust directed at yourself and your parenting. You loved and adored Jack, he knew that. He knew, though he’d never admit it, that Jack liked you more than him, or maybe it was just his insecurity speaking, he wasn’t sure. He knew you gave everything of yourself to the both of them. And he knew he’d just done irreversible damage.

“I offered,” you muttered, your eyes trained on the floor as you wrapped your arms around your chest, pleading with yourself to not cry. You felt silly, standing there, in his hoodie, his home, and seeing his child as your own. “He said he wanted to wait for you. I said we’d go on Sunday.”

Aaron’s stomach dropped at the tone of your voice and the words being spoken. He was making you cry. He was hurting you. And all you’d ever been to him was perfectly kind. You’d always been so supportive, so loving, and so caring. As he came in he saw a love note on the fridge, he’d seen one of his favourite chocolate bars on the counter with a note beside it, a little wrapped gift beside it too. There were multiple reminders on the fridge for yourself, ones telling you to pick up things for the party, pick up Jack’s big birthday gift (a new bike), and call Jessica. You cared so much about the both of them, and he’d just said some of the worst things he could’ve, just because he was stressed.

Imagine how stressed you were, planning an entire party on your own while simultaneously working through hours and hours of paperwork (courtesy of your job, you were still working from home even if you weren't technically working), and parenting all week, all alone.

“There’s dinner in the fridge, I-I’m going to go to bed,” you mumbled, walking about and leaving him alone with his thoughts. He heard your footsteps retract, walking up the stairs and in the opposite direction of your shared bedroom. Shit. You were sleeping in the guest room.

He got up, irritation and shame barely allowing him to get to the kitchen to eat the meal you’d made him. Why was he like this? Why couldn’t he have just listened to you?

He sat alone eating, his eyes drifting to the gift on the counter the entire time. I don’t deserve it. He thought, but caved once he finished his food and cleaned up. He pulled the small bow off and unwrapped the colourful paper to reveal a positive pregnancy test. His heart broke again. Inside beside it was a note, in your beautiful handwriting.

To my dearest Aaron,

I wanted to tell you the second I found out but I also didn’t want you to come home too early when you were still needed in Washington. We’re pregnant! I’m so excited and nervous and happy and scared all at the same time. I didn’t want to upstage Jack’s birthday but I obviously needed to tell you :)

I love you so much and I can’t wait for this next chapter! No more guest bedroom I guess :)

P.s I’m almost sure Jack knows, I’ve been having horrible morning sickness :( but at least this fulfils his christmas wish last year, remember ?

Anyways, I love you so much and I’m so excited.

Your love, Y/N

Xxxx

He felt sick to his stomach. You were pregnant. He’d just been evilly cruel to you and you were pregnant. He’d said some of the most vile things on planet earth to you, he essentially called you a bad mother. And you were pregnant. He hadn’t even realised he was crying until he saw the splotches on the paper, ruining one of the cute doodles you’d done. He immediately put it down, not wanting to damage it further.

He took a deep breath, then went into his study and allowed himself to cry. He’d been mean. He’d hurt you in the one way he promised he wouldn’t, all because he was overwhelmed. All because he was stressed.

“Dad?” He heard Jack’s voice and straightened. He wiped his face. “Why are you upset?” Jack walked into his office, pyjamas and a teddy in hand.

“I did something mean to mom,” he admitted. “And I hurt her by accident,” he wasn’t sure if it was by accident. He was sure some deep part of him just wanted to self-sabotage himself. “And I feel bad about it.”

“It’ll be ok. Mom’s been sick this week, maybe you have the same tummy ache and it’s making you mad?” He suggested and Aaron let out a pathetic chuckle.

“Maybe bud, maybe,” he agreed. “How about we get you back to bed, huh?”

“Can I say goodnight to mom again?” He asked and Aaron’s heart broke again. He lifted him up and nodded, walking them down the hall. “You go into her and I’ll get your bed ready, yeah?”

“OK dad!” Jack exclaimed as he was let down to the ground, and went running off to your shared bedroom. Aaron shook his head.

“She’s in the other bedroom,” he pushed down another wave of tears at Jack’s confused face.

“Why?” He asked, confused.

“I was really mean,” Aaron sniffled. “Say goodnight from me too?”

“Ok dad,” Jack said, walking into the guest room.

Aaron heard your voice, wishing Jack good dreams. You’d been crying.

He was the worst person in the world.

Jack came into his bedroom a few minutes later. “Mom’s still sick, she said goodnight and to tell you that she loves you.”

Aaron almost started crying again. You were so caring. You always put him above yourself. “Thanks buddy.”

Aaron tucked him in and closed his door over, wishing him a good night. The tears came shortly after. He tried to sleep in your shared bed, but it wasn’t right. You weren’t there.

Sleep evaded him that night.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, the morning sickness hit you like a truck. You had your head in the toilet for an hour, at least. You didn’t come out of the guest room until about 9am. You could hear the usual sounds of Jack and Aaron playing outside, probably soccer. You walked downstairs and got yourself a glass of water, the only thing you could actually stomach at the minute. You looked out the window that led to your garden and smiled when you saw your boys playing, then the nagging voice that you thought you’d gotten rid of all but screamed in your ear You’re such a terrible parent. Aaron’s just been trying to conserve your feelings this entire time. Jack probably hates you. You shouldn’t be having another child.

You looked away. Focus on the party. You told yourself. Get through today.

You had a long list of things that needed doing before the party at 3. You had to pick up balloons, pick up the cake, pick up Jessica and her kids, pick up Sean from the airport (as a surprise for Aaron and Jack), and set everything up. You left a small note on the table explaining where you were, and left. You ran all your errands, leaving picking up Jessica, the kids, and Sean till last. When you walked back in, the house was set up and Jack was immediately excitedly by Jessica, his cousins, and Sean which gave you a moment to slip away from Aaron.

Soon enough, the party started and you were bombarded with around forty children and a party to have. You felt Aaron's eyes on you constantly, checking in on you or just watching you. Once the outdoor film started, Penelope, Emily, Jj, and Spencer came over to ask what was wrong with you and Aaron, saying it was strange to not see you all over each other. You told them about the fight (not the pregnancy) and they were shocked at his behaviour. How could he be so mean? How could he treat you like that?

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aaron had been trying to talk to you for hours. Whenever he tried, a kid or one of the team would stop him with a dumb question, or needing help. You had Emily, Penelope, Jj, and Spencer crowding you the entire night, sending him the dirtiest of looks. That’s how he ended up at the end of the garden with David and Derek, who were both giving him a lecture about how what he’d done was wrong.

“You can't say anyone is a bad parent!” Derek stressed. “That’s a very clear no-go!”

“I’m aware,” Aaron said, his lips tight in a frown. “I know what I did was wrong.”

“Then why aren’t you apologising?!” Derek exclaimed, loud enough that a few kids turned around to shush him.

“Because,” Aaron sighed. “Those four haven’t left her side in hours.”

As the movie came to a close and the children left, you were left with just the team and family.

You all sat down to dinner, chinese takeout- Jack’s favourite. There was laughter and true joy, especially at David’s insistence that he could make the meal much better than Jack's favourite take-out, considering he was a ‘chef’.

You all sat down to watch Jack open his gifts, individually thanking each person who gave him something. He was especially taken by the gift Spencer got him, a book on dinosaurs, and he adored the bike. You’d gotten one that you'd made look similar to Sean’s motorbike, Jack was always obsessed with Sean's motorbike. You’d even drawn on specific details that made it even more unique. Everyone eventually trailed out and it was just you, Jack, Sean, and Aaron. Jack asked Sean to read his bedtime story. That meant you and Aaron were left to clean up together. You got up to start picking up plates but Aaron stopped you.

“Can I?” He offered and you nodded, sitting on the couch. You hadn’t eaten at dinner, all food just meant more vomiting in the morning and you were not up for that. “Can we talk?” He asked.

“About what?” You sighed, looking over at him. “I think we’ve both said enough.”

“I’m so sorry about last night,” he sighed, coming over to you and sitting beside you. “I was awful. I was disgustingly mean just because I was overwhelmed. You’re an amazing mother to Jack, while you’re not his biological mother, you love him as such and he loves you. You’re a great parent. I was just being reactive and mean. I was so cruel and I'm sorry. I don’t want an annulment. I want to be with you forever. I know that it isn’t a problem. I know how much you love Jack and me,” he chuckled humorlessly. “I know how little I deserve it.”

You took his hand. “What you said… it was probably my worst nightmare,” you chuckled flatly. “And what you said was pretty damaging, Aaron. I just… it completely restarted the voice in my head that says I’m a terrible parent. It made me scared to think about what’s going to happen when we have our baby. I was already terrified about being pregnant, and this was just…” you trailed off as Aaron’s heart broke. Your voice was raw with emotion. You were so hurt.

“I will spend the rest of my life proving to you that you are the best mother our children could ever have,” he promised and you smiled, but it lacked the regular spark your smiles usually contained.

“The best mother Jack could have is Haley. We both know that.”

Fuck. Now you were comparing yourself to Haley again. Aaron had quite literally set you back about 4 years in your confidence as Jack’s mother. “Honey-”

“I know it sounds bad, but we both know it’s true. I’m good, but as you said, I’m nothing compared to Haley. Which is fine Aaron. I understand my place.”

His heart broke for what felt like the millionth time. He’d hurt you so badly. “Honey please, I was stressed and overwhelmed and I took it out on you. I meant nothing I said. You’re the best mother to Jack and our unborn child. You are the love of my life-”

“I’m the second love of your life,” you smiled sadly at him. “I’m going to bed, goodnight Aaron.”

You walked up the stairs with a heavy heart. No matter what he said, you’ll always remember the look on his face when he told you that you weren’t enough, that you weren't Haley.

You fell asleep on your side of the bed, since you couldn’t exactly sleep in the guest room when Sean was in there.

Aaron leaned against the counter as he washed dishes, thinking about how he could fix this.

Could he even fix this?

——————————————————————————-------------------

criminal minds masterlist

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #bau team #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #hotch

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loveindefinitely · 4 months

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༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

03 — MY COMPASS, MY TRANSPORT

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

“I have nothing else to live for.”

It’s a truth. A deep, earnest one – and it’s the only option you have.

Without Graves, without your Shadows, you have nothing. No income, no family, no support. You're left with the clothes on your body and the shoes in which you stand, with no hope of finding your footing.

In the darkness, the only light shines from the headlights of the truck, and the red of the radio. It’s silenced, of course, but it serves as a beacon of something between you all.

“I don’t – I have no other choice,” you say, voice trembling. You would not break in front of them, but you could feel yourself cracking; porcelain underneath a harsh grip. Turning yourself so you’re completely facing the two, your expression turns desperate. “I want to help you both, and I want to save Phi– Graves.”

You correct yourself at the final moment, wary of your slip up.

“Save ‘im? From what? Feckin’ charges for war crimes? Getting his ass handed to ‘im?” Soap chokes out, incredulous, eyes wide where they meet yours. He winces when he moves forward too quick, straining his arm.

“He’s…” You look down at your hands, merely watching for a moment as they close into a fist and open again. Blood crusts underneath your fingernails. “He’s all I have. I’m sure he just needs a wake up call, someone to snap him out of it.”

“He tried to kill us,” Ghost speaks up, matter-of-fact, but quiet. As if at any moment, his words will wake up the entire city. If there were any civilians left in it, you supposed. Your eyes burn with unshed tears.

“...And I had to kill some of my men.”

It’s a confession of sin. Like poison on your tongue, yet at the same time, an anecdote to an evil in your veins. You’d killed your men. You’d… done that.

You still haven’t quite allowed yourself to realise it, not yet.

But if it’s enough to keep you alive right now, so be it. You hadn’t gotten this far just to give up over something as inconsequential as pride.

“Ye will tell us everything you know about ‘im. And’ll help us until we figure out what to do. We’re our own bosses now, Sweetheart,” Soap commands, that fucking nickname of his seeming to stick. You don’t dispute it – not right now, not when this is quite literally life or death.

“I promise,” you say, resolute and stern. There was no time for self-pity or wallowing, only time for action and conviction – something you had in spades. “I’m yours for as long as you need me.”

You hadn’t known how true those words would be – not then, and not for a good while. But they were a prophecy, if such a thing could at all be possible for a woman like you.

Soap and Ghost share a look; a brief, yet important one, before Ghost gives the Scot a short nod. Soap turns once more to you, his face betraying the answer of their silent agreement.

“...So?” You suggest, impatient considering the consequences of the next few moments.

Bringing a hand up to stroke at his stubbled chin, Soap makes an act of pretending to ponder – and it succeeds in stoking the flames at your core, fury burning through you like a liquor-soaked rope.

“I dunno, lass,” he says on a sigh, his ocean eyes betraying a mischief in their depths. “Yer kinda mean to me.”

You might choke him.

Actually, check that, you will choke him. He’s impossible – an arsehole to the nth degree – somehow worse than Ghost in his… foolishness? Was that the right word? Or just straight frustrating-ness?

Seeming to sense your thinning patience, Soap’s hand falls from his jaw with a mirthful smirk, proud of himself.

“If ye say pretty please, ye can join our lil’ duo.” He finishes the statement off with a wink, and you don’t realise that your hands have curled into fists until the sharp pain of nails digging into your palms force you to resort back to your senses.

You let out a slow, loud breath.

Neither of them move a muscle, except for the twitch of Soap’s dimple. You hate that you recognise such a small movement, but you easily blame it on the fact that it’s a drilled-in mentality.

“...Please,” you acquiesce, however quiet.

Ghost’s eyebrow raises. How you’re aware of that, considering his mask, is a props to him.

“That’s not what he asked for.” His voice is a low, husky thing, and the title of guard dog suddenly doesn’t sound so incorrect.

With your teeth gritted and cheeks straining, you mutter out, “Pretty please.”

Soap’s responding smile is nothing short of beaming, and you almost immediately wish that you could take those words back. Was death really so bad? Would it even be a mercy, compared to deciding to share a threadbare camaraderie with these weirdos?

Too bad time control isn’t exactly a well-researched military weapon.

“Let’s go then,” Ghost slaps his gloved hand against the steering wheel, before looking one last time towards you with purpose, “Sweetheart.”

Soap laughs.

You get out and slam the door in his face.

“Och! You feckin’ bastard, lass,” you hear him screech, before the door opens once more and Soap hops out, fuming.

Turning away, you fall behind Ghost, and quickly take a look around at the vast, empty area that is barren suburbia. Not before responding, however.

“Next time you get shot, I’m not taking care of your ass,” you threaten. “And I’m giving the rest of my sweets to Mr. Melodramatic.”

Soap’s returning mock gasp is, in all fairness, pretty comedic. “You have more sweets? Gimme those and ye lovely bedside manners ‘nd I’ll get a cavity!”

Your returning glare could cut steel. “Keep that up, and you’ll end up with bigger issues than a cavity.”

“I think ye are already the bigger issue,” Soap snaps back, but it’s not inherently malicious. It’s… borderline playful, and that sudden thought has you internally slapping yourself.

“Both of ya – quiet,” Ghost warns.

You both shut up immediately.

With wary steps, the three of you go to step up towards the front door, when Ghost swings out a hand, stopping the lot of you in your tracks. The night doesn’t allow for any of you to see well, but he must’ve picked up something that you hadn’t.

The thought is an immediately terrifying one.

“Pressure plates,” Soap murmurs under his breath, eyeing the square linoleum tile. “Nice catch, Lt.”

Ghost doesn’t respond, instead motioning for you to follow him towards a glassless window. Gravel crunches underneath your light footfalls, easily heard in the deathly quiet, as you move to swing your leg over the access point and drop to the floor inside.

Landing with a soft thud, you go to unfurl from your crouching position, before a loud warning shout from Ghost has you freezing.

Flinching where you stand, your eyes dart to where Ghost has flung one of his daggers, the sharp metal splintering a wooden beam further into the dark room. Realising that Soap sits at your flank, you shift your gaze to spot a red light focused in on his forehead – between his eyes.

“¿Quien esta ahi?” An unfamiliar, accented voice calls out from behind the beam. You could slap yourself for being so careless, in not realising that someone else was in here before Ghost had saved your arses.

“Rodolfo!” Soap calls out, relief flooding his tone as he rights his position, shoulders back.

A man peeks out from behind the wood, eyes wide and slightly panicked, before they soften at the sight of the two men behind you. “Soap! Ghost! You’re alive!”

Stepping out from around the beam, he reaches for Ghost’s dagger, pulling it away from where it had dug into the oak with undeniable ease. His appearance is striking, with a set jaw and gentle features – he’s quite pretty, but not at all in a way that you find yourself attracted to the man.

“Affirmative,” Ghost responds, accepting the knife back when the man – Rodolfo – hands it to him hilt-first.

“Good to see you, amigos,” Rodolfo smiles, before his appraisal sets on you, confusion sparking in his deep brown eyes. He looks to the two men at your side for an explanation, hesitant in the way he does so.

“This is…” Soap trails off, before coming to a realisation. “Feckin’ hell. I never even asked for yer name, Sweetheart.”

Rodolfo blinks. Once, twice, before his eyebrows furrow and his mouth settles into an uncomfortable grimace.

You shoot a glare Soap’s way, before gifting Rodolfo a polite, yet stilted, smile. Extending your hand, you give him your name, and then your official title.

“Colonel? Graves’ colonel?” Rodolfo repeats back, utterly taken aback by such an introduction. He doesn’t seem to know what to do, quickly hissing to Soap in unamused Spanish, “¿Has perdido la cabeza?”

“I saved his life,” you interrupt, before any verbal sparring begins. “And I’m on your team. I don’t agree with what Graves is doing – and I’m sorry for what he’s already done. But I want to help you. I swear.”

Rodolfo regards you for a moment, his internal walls still heavily locked in place. But he seems… softer, now, in a way. More understanding, maybe, less hesitant as he slowly appraises you, inspecting you under his critical analysis.

The silence stretches, before the soldier raises his hands placatingly, the left side of his mouth twitching into a smooth smirk. “No accusations from me, Corazón,” he reassures, the pet name sliding from his full lips like butter over warm toast.

“Aye, none of tha’,” Soap warns, and Rodolfo’s amusement deepens. Whatever the Scot is about to say next is abruptly stopped by Ghost’s booming demand from behind you both.

“Anyone outside of these walls is now considered a hostile – we’re a team now. This happened under my watch, and I’d bloody well do good to fix it.” His posture is stiff, hand unconsciously flexing around the blade strapped to his belt as he delivers the order. It’s the most you’ve ever heard him speak in one shot.

You figure he’s stopped speaking, when suddenly his heavy gaze is on you, any ounce of solidarity snuffed out like a match’s flame. “You fuck up once, Sweetheart, and I won’t hesitate when I shoot ya dead.”

It’s as good of a compromise as you’re going to get from the hulking Lieutenant, but you weren’t made Colonel for your talents in stepping down.

“You forget that I outrank you,” you challenge, chin raised and eyes flinty. “And that I saved your mutt.”

“We don’t have a feckin’ dog,” Soap starts, but when he sees the way Ghost side eyes him, and how you give him an unimpressed look, his jaw drops. “Ye bastard! Shoulda killed ya –”

Rodolfo’s hand wraps around Soap’s forearm, the grumbling man twisting in his hold, but not putting up anything close to a fight. “She’s just stirring you up, hermano,” Rodolfo placates, his large eyes meeting yours with a hint of respect in them. It has you straightening your spine, and your resolve.

“We sort this out as equals,” you state, folding your arms over your chest and bucking your hip. Ghost doesn’t, for a single second, shift your mutual eye contact. “And you will all tell me what the fuck’s going on – and what we’re doing.”

“Alejandro,” Ghost quips, sharp and to the point. Finally, you think, his near-black eyes drift to Rodolfo. “We need him back.”

“He’s the only other lad we can trust out there,” Soap adds, his pout easing slightly. Rodolfo finally drops his hand, clapping it hard against the petulant man’s shoulder with a firm nod.

“Already got a head start, hermanos,” he gestures for the three of you to follow him further into the room, before his calculating eyes glance back at you, “y hermana.”

It’s an unknown, entirely different feeling that erupts inside of your chest at the inclusion. Rodolfo was clearly the most soft spoken man of the three, but he had an intelligence to him that you couldn’t wait to unpack. And he trusted you. Or so you had gathered, anyway.

However.

First things first.

“...Where’s Alejandro? I thought he was Mexican Special Forces?” It was, admittedly, a unique kind of embarrassing – how out of the loop you felt, considering you were a colonel under Graves’ command. You’d heard the man’s name before, but it was usually just paired with barracks gossip and warnings to steer clear. Some joke about how the only one who could kill Alejandro, was the soldier himself.

Moving along with Rodolfo, you’re surprised when it’s Soap who supplies you the answer.

“Your fuckwit of a Commander’s got ‘im,” he curses, the words grating and harsh. Deserved, of course it was deserved, yet it was still odd hearing such disrespect for the man of whom you’d idolised for so long.

Of whom you’d given everything.

Switching a light on, Rodolfo stops in front of a large table, a map laid out across the top of it. Your eyes go wide at the intricacies – focusing as the man leans over and presses a finger towards a highlighted spot, watching the three of you where you stand on the other side. Dust floats near the source of the lamp, and the scent of grime hits you a moment later, a familiar thing.

“Graves is holding him here,” Rodolfo explains, his previously mischievous expression settling into a firm, military-grade frown.

“His own personal black site prison,” Soap scoffs, subconsciously flexing his fingers around the straps of his vest. His focus is utterly devoted to the map in front of him, but his anxiety shows itself through the tiniest of movements.

Rubbing his spare hand down his face, Rodolfo lets out a long, strewn-out sigh. “My men are locked in there, too.”

“Then let’s get them back,” you supply with a small shrug when all eyes shoot your direction.

“That’s obvious, lass,” Soap says, lacking any hint of his previous vitriol when he looks around the room. “How we get ‘em back is the question.”

“By breaking in,” Ghost answers, the retort as simple as breathing.

If you weren’t so receptive to body movements, to the smallest of expressions, you’d’ve missed it. Even then, you doubted that anyone could miss how Soap’s eyes soften when he looks to his Lieutenant, how his breath softly hitches in his throat.

You want to claw out your eyes with a rusty spoon.

By the look on Rodolfo’s face, he feels much the same – until he catches you staring, and then his face twists into something much more cryptic. Like a man trying to solve a puzzle without all of the pieces, being forced to jam spares into spots that just won’t fit.

“We need weapons,” you startle out, the words surprising even yourself. You don’t go back on them, don’t even think to. “If we want to stand a fighting chance – we need firepower.”

“Who said you’re with us?” Ghost questions snarkily, but when you go to reply, you find that Rodolfo’s moved to the corner of the room, switching on even more lights, displaying a wrought iron door.

Sliding it open, you feel like a kid on Christmas morning as you take note of the supplies within.

Rodolfo shrugs, but the small, smug grin on his face doesn’t dispel. “It’s well-stocked. This is Ale we’re talking about.”

The affectionate nickname is something you store away for later. ‘Well-stocked’ is certainly an understatement – guns of all types line the walls within the room, all types of bombs and grenades along with it.

“Alright,” Ghost huffs out, the closest to appreciative that a man like him can get.

Soap is much more upfront about his joy. “My man!” He laughs, his dimples etched into his features like the light spattering of freckles over his upper cheeks and nose bridge. “We’re gonna need new wheels. Preferably up-armoured.”

Digging into his pocket, Rodolfo pulls out a set of keys, tossing them over to Ghost with relaxed shoulders. Turning, shock must be evident on all of you, because Rodolfo lets out a low chuckle. “Your wish is my command, hermanos y hermana.”

To the far end of the room, within the adjoined stables, is a fully-armoured forward drive of some sort – sleek and black and fucking perfect.

“Alejandro thought of everything,” Ghost admires, and when you look to him, you swear that you can see a hint of hope shining in his darkened eyes. Your heart skips a beat on its own accord, and you’re absorbed by the all-consuming want to pull it out of your chest with your bare hands, just so it never does such a thing again.

“Yeah, he did,” Soap whistles, before turning back around to face your small band of misfits. With a determined grin, he says as if it’s an afterthought, “Let’s go get ‘im.”

With a stern resolve and an even sterner disposition, you walk alongside your newfound teammates, and get ready for the most difficult mission of your military career.

When you’d, stupidly, recklessly, decided to play good guy and helps out the 141 and Los Vaqueros, you hadn’t taken into account how you’d be at the bottom of the totem pole.

While the three men you were working alongside were all considerably close, you were an outsider. At that, an outsider who had, only a few hours ago, decided to swap sides from enemy to ally.

Being paired with Ghost is, arguably, the most gut-wrenching job in your life. By the time that Rodolfo finds Alejandro through the CCTV system, you’re nearly entirely covered in dried blood, and your head thumps with a headache.

Not a headache from war – a headache from the fucking twat with a shitty DIY job for a military get-up.

“You’re seriously the worst,” you grit out, wiping off a bit of Shadow blood that’s been sprayed on your cheek. “I seriously can’t fucking believe that any one of your mates can tolerate you.”

“Who needs ‘mates’ when I have my boys?” Ghost quips back, wiping off his bloody dagger onto his vest, before slotting it back into its rightful position on his belt. His ability to blend into the night, even with the prison lights on, is uncanny – the only tell the white of his stitched-in skull.

You mock a disgusted sound, sticking out your tongue. “You sound like a fuckboy.”

“A what?” And, although it sounds nothing like a choke, you’re sure that it’s an instinctual question.

The sound of a helicopter up ahead has the two of you pausing in your tracks, feud coming to a quick halt. Looking up, you struggle to see the vehicle in the black of night, but you manage to spot the slowly circling heli above the prison.

“Ghost, Sweetheart, what’s yer status?” Soap’s voice trickles in through your comms. Ghost glances at you, before he answers on your behalf, ever the control-freak.

“Comin’ your way.”

Falling into step side-by-side, you focus on the wet gravel underneath your feet, avoiding making any communication with the man to your right.

“Copy. We’re on the move,” Soap replies, before Rodolfo cuts in.

“Heads up on the helo,” he warns. You find that you much prefer him over the other two – in fact, under any other circumstance, you could see the two of you becoming good friends. Maybe, if everything goes well, that could be a possibility – a positive in your world of negatives.

“Don’t think we’re in his line of sight,” you respond, double-checking your route and the helicopter's position in the sky. Rodolfo had warned you all, debriefing in the drive here, that helicopters would likely show up at some point.

Minutes pass, with small comms between the lot of you, when you finally spot the familiar figures belonging to the other half of your precarious team.

Soap and Rodolfo stand at the entrance, before the two turn at the sound of your and Ghost’s footsteps. They both seem to visibly loosen their stiff shoulders, seeing you both uninjured – and if you do the same, you pray that no one notices.

“The door’s locked,” Soap informs you all, gesturing to the steel entrance5.

With a small hum, Rodolfo reaches for the pack on his vest. “We’ll need to breach it,” he explains, but before he can grab a charger, Ghost raises a hand to stop him.

“No, Rudy –” And that is a nickname that you’ll be using later, “Knock.”

Rodolfo seems apprehensive, but he agrees anyway, giving all three of you separate glances. “On me…”

All of you getting into readying positions, Rodolfo knocks on the door, the sound echoing loud enough to have your blood pounding in your ears.

A moment later, a Shadow – one you don’t recall having met – pushes open the door and moves to step outside. However, Rodolfo and Ghost are quick to neutralise him, softly dropping his body to the floor.

Pushing through the entrance, everyone except for you shoot a Shadow dead – clearing the room in less than twenty seconds. It’s impressive, how smoothly run the operation is, considering the lack of proper authority or guidance.

You’re the first to spot some more Shadows moving your way, down the stairs – calling it out. “More Shadows from the second floor – watch out!”

This time, you find yourself the cause of two men falling to the ground, blood pooling underneath their lifeless bodies. Your team doesn't give you time to second guess, to mourn, before they’re encouraging you to follow them up the stairs.

“Ale’s up here, let’s go!” Rodolfo urges, his voice bordering on a kind of desperation reminiscent of a boy enlisting for the first time.

Like expected, Alejandro’s cell is down the hall, sat to the far right. Two Shadows guard the steel door, but Soap and Rodolfo are quick to light them up, successfully clearing the entire two floors. You’re ashamed of how relieved you feel, being gifted the small mercies of not having to kill your previous subordinates, unless necessary.

You feel, more than see, Ghost’s heavy gaze on you. When you look back up from the gun in your hands, however, he’s turned completely away – and if you were a less accurate person, you’d have thought you were imagining things.

“There’s Alejandro’s cell.” Stopping at the steel door, Rodolfo adjusts his grip on the gun, before giving you an encouraging jerk of his head. “Open it up, me and Soap will cover you.”

Another small mercy, you think, as Ghost reaches into his backpack and pulls out a set of bolt cutters, regarding you stiffly. “When I pop this lock, you push in,” he directs you curtly, and you bite back a retort. You knew the process like the back of your hand – you had no need for an explanation.

The ‘especially from him’ goes unsaid.

With precise, practised movements, Ghost positions the bolt cutters, and pushes open the door.

As soon as you take one step into the cell, a large hand wraps around the back of your neck, slamming your face into the concrete wall, a blinding pain shooting through your retinas. Letting out a small yelp, your chest rattles as your hands wildly raise in an imitation of surrender.

“Alejandro! Let go of ‘er! It’s us!” Soap calls out, and you swallow unhealthy amounts of air. That hit had taken more out of you than you’d expected – and your harsh breaths were making that incredibly apparent.

The grip on the scruff of your neck slackens when Rodolfo shoots off in quickfire Spanish, “Coronel, relájate, cabron, somos nosotros.”

Your cheek aches and your head pounds as the hand removes itself entirely, allowing for you to take in lungfuls of oxygen.

“Soap, Ghost!” Alejandro bursts out, and as you rise to your feet unsteadily, you watch as he thumps both of them on the back of their shoulders, before turning to Rodolfo with an expression that could only be described as longing. “...Rudy.”

“Didn’t think we’d leave ya, did ye?” Soap chuckles, oblivious to the thread of tension between the two men.

Whatever silent conversation had occured between the two enforcers is quickly cut as Alejandro accepts the shake of Soap’s hand, a feral grin wide on his features. “What took you so long, pendejos?”

“A traitor with an attitude is what,” Ghost inputs, and really, how much self control can a Lieutenant lack? Wiping at your cheek, you let your hand fall once more to your side as you meet Alejandro’s inquisitive gaze head-on.

“I’m Graves’ previous colonel,” you extend your hand, “And I’m your best bet at getting your base back.”

You expect suspicion, uproar, maybe – or at least questioning, similar to that of Rodolfo’s.

Instead, all you’re met with is Alejandro’s manic smile sharpening, and a slap on the back of your own. Ruffling your hair, he uses his free hand to accept the gun Rodolfo’s extending towards him, shooting you a knowing glance.

“Sounds good, hermana. Welcome to how real men fight.”

taglist. @lilpothoscuttings @jng-yuan @iruzias @insatiablekittie @1wh4re1nova @kaoyamamegami @supernaturalstilinski @inthemiddle0feverywhere @msecho19 @nogood-boyo @alfa-jor @lalashhyl @letmeapologise @honeybeeznutz @1mawh0re

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 month

Note

can you make HSR male character with a dead reader (I LOVE ANGST, I LIVE FOR ANGST).

for the characters, it's up to you, but if possible, please include Blade and Jing Yuan (if this topic makes you uncomfortable, don't do it)

Sorry for getting to this after so long and if it was shit.

Jing yuan:

It had been a while since your passing and everyone had seemingly forgotten your name and the fact that you had once lived amongst them.

However Jing Yuan didn’t, he refused to let himself forget the hold you once had over on his heart, mind and soul, or how your actions touching him in ways that he didn’t think were possible.

Life had lost its colour and appeal the moment you died and Jing Yuan had no need to feel excitement for things that he did before with you by his side.

The stars looked dull as though they were mourning you alongside him, the flowers you once given him didn’t smell as fragrant nor looked as healthy as they should’ve. Even the street food stalls didn’t seem at all appetising when you weren’t here to practically salivate over, and or give him the biggest pair of pleading puppy eyes over that never failed to elicit a chuckle out of him.

He stayed inside more often than not as everything outside might as well have been casted in black and white to Jing Yuan, with the only remnants being at your grave of which he often found himself sat in front of.

‘You once asks me what my biggest regret would be and I told you that I don’t live life with regrets, which was a lie and you knew it but didn’t speak up about it, whether it was out of respect or otherwise I’ll never know…not now at least.’ He says with a forced smile, the pain within his chest growing ever greater the more he relived your loss. ‘I am burdened with many regrets. Many of which that have threatened to squash with their weight, but loosing you will be my ultimate regret as with you I was starting to believe in forever in this life once more…only for forever to die with you.’ He concludes as he presses his forehead to your headstone and closed his eyes in hopes of feeling your warmth once more.

But all he felt was the cold, unforgiving and hard surface of your headstone as a tear fell from his eye at the reality that all aspects of you were truly gone forever…

Blade:

Your death was a tragedy Blade couldn’t forget.

It was engraved into every corner of his mind where it was made impossible for him to forget.

Even in his torturous dreams he was forced to watch you die in front of his eyes constantly and in the most horrific ways possible, all the while he remained helpless to stop any of it from happening.

Any remnant of you was clutched tightly in his hand under it bled from his nails digging into his skin, but he couldn’t feel it for he had grown numb. He’d even tie a piece of cloth from your clothes to the hilt of his sword or his finger in order to feel you with him wherever he went.

Just like you always wanted.

Blade couldn’t fully dedicate himself to being your partner but he was more than selfish with your attention and affection. He wanted it all. No, he needed it all for himself and gave you nothing much in exchange other than letting you hold onto him and kiss his scars.

He did love you in his own way and was building himself up to actually be your partner properly, only for you to die selflessly in his arms, whispering that’d you loved him before passing on from your wounds.

Blade thought he should’ve been use to death by now but your death hit him in a way that left him desiring death more than normal, in hopes that he could reunite with you and correct his wrong doings when you were alive.

Now and then in moments where Blade was faced with death, he could feel a presence next to him that felt soft, warm and felt very much like the you he was forced to remember…

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queenshelby · 9 months

Text

Business As Usual (Part Four)

Pairing: Dark!Thomas Shelby x Wife!Reader

Warning: Dubious Consent, Reluctant Smut, Loss of Virginity, Arranged Marriage, Religious Themes, Angst, Termination, Pregnancy

Words: 2,145

NOTE: THIS IS MUCH DARKER THAN WHAT I USUALLY WRITE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

The rain poured relentlessly outside the grimy window of the narrow back-alley abortion clinic.

You sat on the uncomfortable wooden chair, your mind clouded with doubts and fear.

Lizzie Stark, a woman you only recently met, had given you the contact details of a doctor who specialised in illegal procedures like the one you wanted to have performed but questioned yourself about.

"Am I really going to do this?" you whispered to yourself, your hands nervously fidgeting in your lap. The sound of a baby crying from the adjacent room reached your ears, the piercing wails tearing at your already frayed emotions. Suddenly, the door creaked open, revealing a frail-looking doctor with weary eyes peering out from beneath a pair of thick spectacles. His expression was grave as he motioned for you to follow him.

"Y/N is it?” the doctor asked in a hushed tone and you nodded, unable to trust your voice to convey the turmoil within you.

Your heart thundered in your chest, fear and anticipation intertwined. This house, where your choice would be made, seemed to shrink around you, suffocating you with its sterile walls and unspoken possibilities. You took a deep breath, your trembling hand clutching to your purse for support. This was it. The moment of truth, where everything would change, for better or for worse.

“Ready to make your little problem disappear?" the doctor then asked as you walked into the procedure room and your eyes widened as his words sank in. The procedure room was stark and sterile, the air heavy with the scent of antiseptic. The doctor instructed you to lie down on the uncomfortable metal table, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Actually," you began, your voice trembling slightly, "I'm not sure if I can go through with it,” you told the man and his face twisted into a scowl, his patience evaporating like smoke in the breeze. "Time is money, Love. If you're wasting mine, I have no qualms about showing you the door,” he said rudely and you swallowed hard, feeling a sudden surge of bravery. "I'm sorry, but I just can't do it” you told him as silence hung heavily between you, tension thickening the air.

The doctor's eyes bored into yours, searching for any hint of insecurity, any crack in the armour you had gathered around your resolve.

"Fine," he finally muttered, his voice laced with disdain. "But don't come crying to me when you're stuck with a child you don't want,” he told you and, with those haunting words, he retreated into his office, leaving you standing in the desolate waiting room, grappling with the weight of your decision.

***

Week after week then passed, and you continued to live the misery of your life while, secretly, watching your body change and adapt to the fact that you were carrying a child you did not want and about which your husband knew nothing about.

Week after week, you watched in secret as your body transformed, silently adapting to the growing life within you. The weight you carried was not just physical; it weighed heavy on your soul. Each day, you meticulously hid any evidence of your pregnancy, ensuring that Tommy remained oblivious to the truth.

In the depths of your heart, a mixture of fear, guilt, and resentment simmered as you plotted to leave this mess behind. How did you find yourself in this situation? The life growing inside you was not one you wanted, yet fate had deemed it otherwise. Your secret burden became a constant reminder of the choices you thought you had control over but ultimately surrendered to circumstance.

You had no say, a slave in your home called Arrow House, and as you struggled to navigate your own conflicting emotions, you couldn't help but wonder how Tommy would react if he ever discovered your secret. What would become of you? Would he understand your reasons or resent you for keeping him in the dark? These unanswered questions coiled tightly within you, sealing your lips and strengthening your conviction to conceal the truth.

With each passing day, the weight of the secret grew heavier. It whispered its taunting presence, reminding you of the façade you had woven around your life. You became a master of deceit, expertly masking the signs of pregnancy—sickness, tiredness, and the telltale physical changes—through careful planning and cunning improvisation.

But this wasn’t everything you concealed. You also concealed the fact that you were disgusted and hurt by the fact that your husband was treating you the way he did.

He slept with other women, mainly whores but also a fellow criminal named Laura Manning. Laura was a pawn in his game. He did not love her and yet, you couldn’t help but feel despair towards her. She worked with your husband while he did not allow you to work at all. He kept you as his prisoner, and eventually, you just sought solace in the routine of your days, feigning normalcy while the life within you flourished.

You pursued mundane activities, but behind the smiling facade was the war of emotions raging within you as you plotted to leave, somehow, going back to America. The love and attachment you should have felt for your unborn child by now was also overshadowed by the overwhelming sense of entrapment. Arrow House was nothing but a gilded cage and, week after week, you continued to play your role and maintained the illusion that everything was as it should be while you longed for the day when you could unburden yourself of all this.

You needed your own money to leave and had no access to a large amount of funds. Your husband controlled everything and, just recently, he even took away the little money you had saved beneath your bed after he caught wind of the plan you were plotting.

A fight ensued, following which leaving Arrow House was impossible for you. You were a prisoner now and with that, the secret of your unborn child was seeping into the cracks of your arranged marriage. The guilt gnawed at your soul like a relentless beast as you wondered how long you could keep the truth hidden.

You were several months pregnant now, showing slightly and just as Tommy came home again after a lengthy trip, smelling like another woman, you had enough. You could not take it anymore.

Thomas returned home earlier than you had expected. The stench of his infidelity clung to him like an invisible layer of betrayal. The moment his eyes met yours, you felt a shiver of anguish run down your spine.

His presence alone commanded attention, silencing the air with his dangerous aura. Thomas, eyes cold as steel, glanced at you, his penetrating gaze making you feel bare, vulnerable.

"Knitting, eh?” he teased you, seeing that this was how you had spent your days now that it was raining. You knitted out of boredom and his statement caused you to nod in silence while tears began to form in the corner of your eyes.

“Don't you have something more productive to do?" Tommy drawled, asserting his authority as he always did. You raised an eyebrow, your resilience fighting back this time as your ever-changing hormones got the better of you.

"Perhaps I would have if I wasn’t a prisoner in this fucking house and if my husband hadn't been busy gallivanting with his mistress yet again," you retorted, your voice dripping with bitterness. The tension grew thick between you, the air electric with unspoken words. Thomas took a step forward, his voice low and venomous.

"My personal affairs are none of your concern, eh. Our marriage is a sham, so why should I be faithful to you?” he questioned, his arrogance seeping into every syllable. Your jaw clenched, a defiant fire igniting in your eyes.

"If this is a mere sham for you, why keep me prisoner Thomas? Just let me go, after all you have done to me…” you told your husband before implementing a threat of your own.

“You know, I have told my family about your lack of liaison with me on the export provisions and I am sure it will be addressed during the next business meeting. So perhaps then you will just have to set me free” you determined to which Thomas smirked, his arrogance momentarily shifting into amusement.

"That’s funny Love” he taunted. “Since it was your uncle and aunt who made me keep you out of the family business. I wanted to keep my fucking promise to you after that awful night we shared. I thought that I owed you that much, but your family begged to differ” Tommy then said, dismissing your words with a flick of his hand.

“Excuse me?” you say surprised while a twisted smirk graced Tommy’s lips.

“I am doing exactly what your family wants from me Y/N and it is in both our interest to do so, at least for now. Trust me” Tommy told you as the room fell into an infuriating silence, tension hanging in the air like a blade waiting to strike.

Thomas stared at you, his stormy eyes searching for a hint of weakness. "But you are not as powerless as you think Love. Not against me and not against your family" Thomas finally spoke, a dangerous glimmer dancing in his eyes.

"You just need to learn how to put your foot down when sitting with the big players in this game,” your husband told you and, by that point, your heart raced, the weight of your secret threatening to suffocate you.

“This game?” you asked. “Is this what this is to you, Thomas? A fucking game?” you asked, causing your husband to chuckle.

“Yes, I do. It’s a game of power and fucking respect, both of which you need to earn if you want to make it to the top and I am at the fucking top now” Tommy exclaimed, causing you to break out in anger.

“Well, I played the game too Tommy, when I agreed to marry you. My marriage to you alone should earn me some fucking respect, but no…you are out there, fucking every whore in this town, and it isn’t even the whores that bother me. It’s Laura fucking Manning” you told Tommy, your frustration seeping into your voice. "I went into this marriage, fully aware of what I was getting myself into. But I thought that, at the very least, my commitment to you would earn me some respect” you went on to tell your husband who was stunned by your newfound confidence.

Your tone of voice conveyed your frustration and annoyance as you confronted Tommy about his affair. This arranged marriage was already far from what you had envisioned, but to discover that your husband was being unfaithful added an extra layer of irritation.

You had resigned yourself to the fact that your marriage may not be built on love, but mutual respect and fidelity should have been a given. Yet here you were, realising that even the minimal expectations you had were not being met.

Tommy's actions felt like a direct attack on your dignity, making it even more difficult to maintain any semblance of a positive outlook. The bitterness in your voice was a perfect reflection of the resentment simmering within you.

But rather than let your emotions consume you completely, you chose this moment to confront Tommy. You wanted him to understand just how much he had wounded you and how unacceptable his actions were.

As the words left your lips, you couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction, even in your angry state. You were determined to make him face the consequences of his choices, and this confrontation would be the first step towards that.

Thus, with a determined resolve, you squared your shoulders and met Thomas's gaze head-on as he was standing there, speechless.

"I am not one to be underestimated, Thomas. You'll soon learn that," you declared, your voice laced with the strength you barely knew you possessed. Thomas chuckled, a low, mocking sound that resonated with arrogance. "Then show me, Love. Show me who you really are, " he challenged. As the tension between you rose, you felt a strange mix of anger and desire. The lines between love and hate began to blur, a dangerous dance on the edge of emotion.

Suddenly, the sound of a gunshot echoed from outside, shattering the fragile tranquillity. Thomas's eyes flickered with a flicker of alarm before he composed himself, slipping back into the role of a cold, calculating leader.

"Seems our conversation will have to wait, eh," he muttered, the urgency in his voice betraying his calm facade. "Stay here,” he then ordered, and you nodded silently, watching as he rushed out of the room with a swift determination.

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hollyhomburg · 2 months

Text

Before I Leave You (Pt.68)

(Sneak Peek) (Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Your time is running out. minute by minute, breath by breath, kiss by kiss.

Tags: Angst, Hurt (no comfort yet), illusions to past mental health issues and past domestic abuse, mentions of low-self-esteem, internalized shame and self-shaming behaviors, themes of abandonment, speeding, guns, violence,

W/c: 12.4k

A/N: ahhhhh so here we are! i've been dreaming of this chapter since the very beginning of the series! this is like...the ultimate chapter...thank you for giving me a little bit of extra time to sit with it! we've still got a bit to go! fun fact that is actually my hand writing in the note in the moodboard....i couldn't find a pic of something i liked so i made it myself!

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Chapter 68: Before I Leave you (Sneak peak)

You look striking in the half darkness, a pair of Yoongi’s green flannel pajama pants rolled up several times to fit properly around your hips. A thin white tank top that's almost falling down one shoulder. Namjoon’s heart pulses dully with the need to hold, the need to protect. He makes a soft noise in his throat and your head jerks in his direction.

You swallow, and your lips look dry, eyes glassy and innocent in their tilt when your mussed hair fluffs over your shoulder. Messy from where Hobi was nuzzling it in his sleep.

“I was just getting a glass of water.”

Namjoon wordlessly holds his hand out to help you get out of the nest without teetering or disturbing the others. Noodle dashes back down the stairs with a soft meow. Tae sighs and re-settles, smacking her lips and Jimin’s arm tightens. Your mate turns face up in the nest, chest rising and falling, mouth opening like he can taste your scent on the air.

Namjoon doesn't doubt he can, honed in on you and focused as he always is.

Namjoon doesn’t let go of your hand when your feet find the smooth floor. Checking the wounds on your hands and verifying that they’re clotting, the margins slotted together properly for minimal scarring (he'd redone the glue-suture after your shower with minimal scolding). He stoops and presses a gentle kiss to the bandages after they are re-fastened. Letting his lips linger there for a second.

Namjoon has always had big hands, warm and steadying as they cradle yours. Small and chapped and scared.

Instead of continuing on downstairs, you linger for a second by Namjoon’s side. Eating up every word he says, his scent, and the comfort of having him nearby. Something you know you won’t have forever. (Somehow- you know that this will be the last time that Namjoon holds you. You can wait one minute more. you can give him one more minute) He sets the gun to the side and pulls you between his legs.

“Joonie?” You ask. Your pack alpha wraps his arms around your waist and nuzzles forward, rubbing his spiky head across your midriff. Nose nudging the dimple of your belly button and the slight pudge there.

Namjoon will never not be happy that he can see the evidence of the pack’s love on you. Will never not feel proud of you. He nuzzles, and you huff a soft laugh that Namjoon feels against his cheek. Your warm soft skin swelling with laughter. Namjoon’s face is blushing red when he pulls back to look at you in the darkness. Corralled in the safe circle of his arms, fingers digging into your hips and squeezing.

“What are you doing alpha?”

“Just thinking- just-” Namjoon’s voice gets so much lower in the nighttime, it's a gravely growl. A sound that paints pictures of lightning and clouds hovering low like a blanket.

“When all of this is over, I want to go somewhere new.” Namjoon's hands tightening on your waist. “-With you. Just you. Just the two of us. Maybe.” Namjoon fights back a fresh blush at the confused cock of your head. “maybe- like- a fancy Airbnb? or something? Wouldn't that be fun? Would you like that?”

You pause, humming. Indulging Namjoon in this as he holds you loosely around your hips, fingers rubbing endlessly up and down the sensitive small of your back. Eyes wide and emploring like a child.

You're only too happy to forget for a second and imagine. What would happen if you didn’t leave tonight? What would happen if you found some way out of this- and imagine if you actually got your happily ever after. Just like in the movies.

But glass slippers cut. Dresses are rented not owned. Good dreams have the power to hurt- even when they’re good.

It’s easy to go further than just thinking about a simple weekend. You Imagine far into the future; a day that you'll never see. A future with Namjoon and the pack.

Namjoon would be a good father.

He’d be kind and patient. He’d never snap. He’d never yell. For a moment that’s all you want to think about- not a stupid weekend but a lifetime. A family. A world where you’re never yelled at, where you don't have to be afraid, where nothing is hard and even if it’s hard you do it together. Where you just get to live.

If you had pups, you know Namjoon would treat every skinned knee like it was surgery. Would never tell them to walk it off or say it wasn’t that bad. You know that he’d go through every tea party with gusto and stay up late to help them with their homework. That he’d struggle to say no but that you might never need to. It would be lovely- getting to give something small and innocent so much safety. It would be nice to have pups with Namjoon.

You can’t say you don’t want it, but you know in that moment that you won't get it. You'll never get to see Namjoon be a father- even if the pups aren't yours or are just his and Jin's. You’d love them all the same. What use is it to Imagine things that you’ll never get? What good are dreams like this but to tease you, just out of reach?

Namjoon nuzzles into your stomach again. His nose drawing soft circles just under your belly button.

You’d be a shit mother anyway. Too fragile. Too nervous. Too hurt. Too much of everything. You'd fuck them up just by being you. you'd fuck them up the same way you've fucked up this perfectly good pack. You've brought nothing but destruction upon them. The evidence of you is everywhere. The bullets in the ceiling, the blown apart door. Your hands and Hobi's throat. All of this is because of you.

You snap back to the present, swallowing down the lump in your throat. You’re gnawing at your own leg to survive. All things that bite cannot resist it. What good does hope do at the end other than to hurt?

Still- you can't resist asking Namjoon, curled around you like a protective barrier to keep out all the worlds hurts (or to keep you in)

“If we went? Where would we go? If we made it- What would it be like Joonie?”

Coming Saturday March 23rd at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments Below)

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neonpaperlanterns · 2 months

Note

Hi! I hope you're having a good time of day!

I was curious if you would be open for a more angsty story with the bestest boy DogDay? Like, they have an encounter with CatNap where Angel gets an open wound that they need to stitch up later. And DogDay can't do anything about it with his hands being too big, so all he can do is comfort his Angel and encourage them? Just him being as supportive as he can be and amazed with his Angel's determination?

It's okay if you dont want to write something like this though! Thank you for your time! Your stories are really good with their captivating nature!

[A/n: So I hope you like this anon. I think I went deeply into the angst.]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If only

It all happened so fast. One moment you were next to DogDay and the next you were gone. Flung across the rubble as if you were an unloved toy.

And standing in your place was Catnap with his mouth hung open and red smoke spilling everywhere. After years of exposure DogDay had grown unaffected by the worming hallucinations. He knew what was real and at first he assumed what he was seeing wasn’t.

It couldn't be.

No matter what you always got back up. You were their shining light, their hope, their Angel. You always got back up. So the fact that you weren’t moving just had to be fake. The slowly pooling puddle of red he was seeing? Trick of the smoke. It had to be. You were fine. He was sure of it.

His Angel always got back up.

Always.

But then why did it feel so real? It couldn’t be. It wasn’t. It was the smoke playing tricks on him. Peeling back the layers of his frazzled mind to poke and prod at something new he could be taunted with.

A wheezing laugh made his head snap up. The cat was looking at him. That horrible smile he saw in his nightmares and every fractured mirror was turned towards him. Malice and a sick sense of satisfaction dripped from that grinning face.

“Is something wrong?” DogDay felt something hot and acidic pool in the back of his throat.

“Is it them?” His hands are trembling as Catnap moves his gaze over to you. He can’t move his arms as the former Smiling Critter sways towards you. His gait slow and with purpose as those eyes that only held deranged devotion glanced back at him.

“Oh, must not be.” It was said with a gravely snicker a single dirty purple paw rose into the air. It was done so slowly, as if Catnap wanted him to see every minute movement. Even through the dim light and thick smoke he can see the twitching claws that hover over you.

And you still haven’t moved. Still lying limp as that monster loomed over you. He felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest at this clear taunt.

“Are- AAAHHHHHHHH!” A horrendous screech filled the air. Blips of orange were beacons in the crimson fog. DogDay felt himself lurch forward, arms still shaking, as he watched Catnap rear back. A bright flare sizzled in his throat as he stumbled away.

“Let's go.” Your body slams into his as you shuffle him along. Your grip on him is tight as you take the majority of his weight. He’s reeling as joy sears through him. It was a trick. You hadn’t actually been crumbled beneath that cat. You were fine. He had just been seeing things. Tears pricked along his eyes. He was just so happy. His Angel was okay and had been the entire time.

And he didn’t want to let go when you stumbled into a supply closet. He wanted to stay in your arms but as you sagged to the floor he noticed something. Pulling away he thought he was still under the effects of the red smoke.

He had to be.

Under the flickering lights he saw how your side was soaked with blood. Gnarled slashes marred your skin.

“What…” Shakily he reached out. He was so sure you had been alright. So sure that it had all been a hallucination. That it had just been Catnap messing with him because he found a new weakness to exploit. But it hadn’t been.

DogDay doesn’t know what to do. He is just as useless right now as he was when you had been lying there.

“We shouldn’t stay here too long. I’m sure Catnap is going to be very upset when he recovers.” You're fumbling around the closet, pushing and moving things around. He wants to help you but he can’t.

“Hey, are you still with me?” A hand is placed on his shoulder. It startles him and he lists backwards. But you don’t let him fall. Your arms wrap around him, steadying him.

“DogDay are you okay?” You sound so concerned but you shouldn’t. He’s fine, you’re the one that got hurt! He should be asking you these questions. He should be helping you!

“Angel I..” His voice came out hoarse and warbled. He can’t even speak properly! What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he help you? Why couldn’t he be there for you? You asked for nothing and he couldn’t even do that! You did everything, all the time. It was always you and he loved you for that. But God he just wanted to do something for you. If only he was a bit more like you.

Why couldn’t he be more like you?

Why did he have to be him?

#poppy playtime #dogday x reader #dogday poppy playtime #reader insert #catnap #mild mentions of blood #angst #hurt but not so much comfort #flare gun to the throat

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kaorisun · 11 months

Text

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 immortality is an abundant curse (3)

pairing : blade x reader

tags : hurt no comfort, angst, canon divergence

word count : 4.88k

chapters : one • two • three

crossposted to : AO3

Summary : “Everything changed the day Imbibitor Lunae committed a grave sin in the eyes of the Xianzhou. Upon Ren, he bestowed the most abundant curse known to man.

“Immortality.”

The full story.

Yanqing wears his heart on his sleeve.

Given this fact, you truly should’ve figured that Jing Yuan would know exactly who had taken his diary upon discovering it missing.

However, this thought doesn’t cross your mind, so when Jing Yuan arrives at the clinic that night to search for his young apprentice, you’re terribly startled.

Yanqing, who’d been carefully showing you the fruits of his training inside the clinic, drops his sword with a clatter, gasping upon seeing the General appear at the door.

“It wasn’t me!” he yelps indignantly. Jing Yuan gives the boy an amused look.

“Oh? I haven’t even mentioned what I’m here for. How did you know I’d accuse you?” the General questions. Yanqing deflates, having exposed himself and his guilt without the man having to do so much as lift a finger. You reach out towards Yanqing, wanting to defend the boy from any potential ire or anger.

All things considered, he’d done it for your sake. You wouldn’t let him take the blame for such a kindhearted action.

Bailu beats you to it first. Grabbing the journal from her desk, she tosses it to the General. The man catches it with one hand before looking at her curiously.

“Take it. I already read through all of it. I have a good memory. I’ll tell them the stories myself, whether you agree with it or not,” Bailu insists, turning away in annoyance. Unexpectedly, instead of disagreement or disdain, Jing Yuan chuckles and shakes his head.

“I think you’re mistaken. I didn’t come here to scold anyone or take this back. Actually, I commend Yanqing for taking a stand against me and remaining firm in his belief that you had the right to know,” Jing Yuan says with a small smile. Yanqing lets out a relieved sigh before picking up his sword, migrating to the edge of your bed to seat himself.

You tilt your head in confusion. “Why aren’t you upset?”

Jing Yuan suddenly looks sheepish, reaching back to rub his neck. “Actually, I went to the Divination Commission to inquire about this situation. Needless to say, the Master Diviner did not agree with how I handled everything.”

You hum softly, the thought bringing you some comfort. “Did she use the Matrix of Prescience to arrive at that answer?” you ask.

“Actually….” Jing Yuan trails off as he averts his gaze. Bailu pipes up with an amused huff.

“Fu Xuan scolded you, didn’t she?” she interrogates. The General sighs softly before confirming the healer’s suspicions with a small nod.

“Well, what she said, and I quote, ‘despite having the title Divine Foresight, you spend no time thinking about the consequences of your decisions. I don't even need a third eye to see why that’s wrong. Your apprentice has more of a head than you do,’ or something along those lines,” Jing Yuan recounts with a guilty expression.

“I’m glad someone got it through that thick skull of yours, General. The memories are a precious thing to the Vidyadhara race. I can hardly believe you hid so much myself,” Bailu chastises, crossing her arms.

“I know, I know. I realize my mistake,” he starts, walking over to you and sitting beside Yanqing on the edge of the bed. “I'm glad my nosy apprentice told you everything. I thought I was protecting you by keeping everything a secret, but I only caused you more stress in the end.”

You offer a gentle smile. “I went along with it without a fuss because I trusted you. It hurt, but I figured you wouldn’t hide things without reason.”

“And even knowing that I’ve been shielding you from something painful, you still want the truth?” the man asks, the worry clear in his expression. You meet his gaze and nod.

“Yes. Learning the truth is allowing me to feel more and more complete. Even if it’s upsetting, I need to know,” you insist. Jing Yuan chuckles.

“Even without your memories, you’re just as headstrong as you were back then,” he muses. “In that case, I’ll take responsibility, and I’ll be the one to deliver the truth to you.”

“At a later date,” Bailu interjects before Jing Yuan can flip open his diary to the relevant pages. “Save any new stories for tomorrow. I don’t want to strain them further.”

“Strain..?” the General mumbles. You quickly pipe in to clarify.

“Ren… I remembered my first meeting with him. I remembered loving him. But… everything else is still foggy,” you explain.

“But that was enough to make you faint! Lady Bailu is right. We should wait,” Yanqing adds. Jing Yuan looks at you and ruffles your hair affectionately.

“In that case, tomorrow. After our duties, I’ll sit down with you and tell you more. Every single day that Bailu allows it, I’ll tell you something new,” he promises. You feel your heart warm, a weight lifted off your chest.

“I’ll hold you to it. I’m sure Yanqing will, as well. Every day…” you murmur, a small grin making its way onto your face at the thought of finally securing a way to retrieve all of what you’d lost.

Soon, you’ll have all of the pieces of your past life. Once you do, you’ll finally know everything that transpired that led you to where you are now.

As excited as you are, you can’t help but feel a sense of dread.

There’s bound to be many joyous tales from your past, but the story of heartache and loss looms over you. It reminds you that, as happy as things may be, you have to prepare yourself to accept the pain and suffering of your previous life.

You can only hope that it’s something you’ll be able to handle when the time comes.

Dusk turns to dawn, and the sun rises on a new day.

True to his word, Jing Yuan begins visiting you in the evenings at the clinic to tell you new anecdotes from your past. Filling your head with stories that feel familiar— nostalgic, he tells tales each night until your head aches, a sign that you’ve taken in enough for the day.

The General helps you recall your first meeting with him— introduced as mutual friends of Imbibitor Lunae. You slowly remember the way you would watch the two spar, happy to clean up any wounds that came as a result.

Beyond that, Jing Yuan even shares how he’d been the one to push Lunae to introduce Ren to you, having always thought that you’d be a good influence on the man. Lunae agreed, and the General had considered it a personal victory.

However, he speaks of the way you fought alongside him in battle. This fact has you curious, having always assumed you were nothing but a healer.

Jing Yuan clarifies that you were a healer, and you once took up a sword to fight against the Denizens of Abundance precisely because of that reason. Each battle he recounts has your hands ghosting over areas where you swear you feel a slight pin prick of pain.

The General mentions that each place you touch is a place where your skin had once scarred over with wounds from each fight. It makes you smile— it seems the body truly never forgets.

Days continue to pass, and with time, your mind becomes less and less fractured. With each new tale, you grow more and more sure of who you are now and who you once were. Skills you once forgot become second nature once more. Memories return to you sometimes with the assistance of Jing Yuan and Bailu. Others enter your mind naturally, a byproduct of the newfound exposure to your past life.

Bailu notes your increased skill and confidence in healing, recognizing the way you improve as you remember the techniques of your profession. Your heart fills with warmth. You start to feel like yourself again— no longer a wanderer with nothing but shards of the past to their name.

Yet, as elated as you are to make such progress, it’s bittersweet.

You know they’re still deliberately avoiding how it all ended— how your Ren became Blade, the nature of your relationship, anything to do with him. Given that they’ve yet to broach the topic, all of those memories remain locked behind a wall. Unlike other moments, you’re unable to recollect it on your own— likely too heavy a topic to be triggered without help.

A frown appears on your face. You haven’t felt more sound of yourself in ages. Are you still unprepared? Is everyone coddling you once more?

How tragic a topic is the reality of your disappearance to cause them to hold off for this long?

Either way, it fills you with uncertainty and unease. You resolve to ask about it that evening, but it seems you don’t have to, for fate aligns itself at the perfect time.

As the sun begins to fall beneath the horizon, Jing Yuan, Yanqing, and Bailu all approach you, seating you on the bed as they surround you. Their expressions are all terse— hesitant.

You’re about to ask about what’s occurred— unsettled by the tension, but Jing Yuan is the first to speak up, interrupting any thoughts you have.

“You’ve made significant progress with your memory recovery. Bailu has deemed you mentally sound enough to learn of the truth. I’ll tell you everything. Who he was in regards to you, what happened to him… and how it all ended,” the General explains. Your heart flutters in nervousness and anticipation alike.

“Everything…?” you echo. Bailu nods.

“You’ve retained everything else well. I can’t promise that this won’t cause some sort of physical reaction. Much like the first time, it’s likely you’ll experience some pain, but… if we’re right, this should be the last time,” the healer promises with a determined gaze. You smile, feeling comfort in the resolve of those around you.

“Alright. I trust you,” you say. Bailu nods to Jing Yuan, who seats himself beside you as he begins to recount his experience from his memories.

He starts. “There’s one thing I’m certain about. The way you could never tell how Ren felt towards you seems to have stuck. You were the same back then, but I knew— everyone knew that Ren loved you more than anything in this world.”

“For a while, you didn’t realize just how hard Ren had fallen for you. It was incredibly obvious to the rest of us, though. Perhaps… it was because you were always looking away. When he regarded you with nothing but pure adoration, you were inevitably turned in the other direction.”

Ren lets out an affectionate sigh as he looks at you, head propped on his hand as he watches you stare down at your work table in pure concentration. The soft grind of pestle against mortar resounds through the building. Jing Yuan chuckles softly, looking at Ren with a smirk.

“Do you plan on saying anything to them? Or are you determined to long in secrecy for the rest of your life?” he questions, teases slipping off his tongue. Ren narrows his eyes at the man.

“Watch yourself, General,” he retorts. Jing Yuan lets the empty threat slide off him with ease, refusing to back down.

“All you do is sigh and stare in every moment you spend in their presence. Why are you so hesitant?” he asks. Ren glances away towards the herbs and medicines lining the walls— all fruits of your labor.

“They’re dedicated to their craft. They wouldn’t have the time for such frivolity,” he laments. Jing Yuan hums and gives a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Nonsense. They have plenty of time to spare. I often hear them complaining that they have too much time to Lunae,” Jing Yuan counters. Ren tenses, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“I doubt they feel the same affection for me as I do for them,” he mumbles. The General has to hold back from barking out a laugh.

“Please! That’s absolutely absurd. All I hear from you are excuses,” he insists. Before Ren has a chance to retaliate, another voice speaks up.

“The General is right about this, as boastful as he’s acting currently,” Imbibitor Lunae adds in, seating himself at the table with the two. ��Both of you have a limited amount of time, Ren. It’d be unwise to waste it wondering if they feel the same.”

“Exactly. Besides, if you hold back on making a move, maybe I will,” Jing Yuan jests with a smirk. Ren shoots up in his seat.

“You will not!” he seethes before rolling his eyes, practically stomping off to retreat to your side. Jing Yuan watches in amusement.

“Do you think he’ll say anything or just sulk as per usual?” he asks. The dragon beside him hums.

“Have more faith in him. You pushed him right where he needed to be pushed. Just observe for now,” Lunae says, and Jing Yuan does so.

“I guess Ren really was at his wits end at that point, and Lunae was able to pick up on it. We watched, and you leapt into his arms after he professed his love. All of us knew it was a matter of time before you ended up together, but seeing it… it was a weight lifted for all of us.

“You two were finally happy.

“For a while after that, things were calm and comforting. Ren came to terms with his short life since you’d be there to spend it with him. I’d never seen anything make him happier than the day you became his, and he, yours.

“Truthfully, I think, that day, he found something worth living for in his relationship with you. Of course, he had the rest of us, but we were all long-life species. In you, he came to understand why life was so precious— why he had to treasure his existence, no matter the length of it.

“Alas, he was still… reckless, but just in the normal, stubborn, and headfast way that he always was. You were always there to scold him for it, but we all could tell it was different. Ren was fighting for his beliefs— no longer careless about his life. He was, in lack of better terms, himself.

“As I’m sure you’re aware by now, such tranquility couldn’t last forever.

“Everything changed the day Imbibitor Lunae committed a grave sin in the eyes of the Xianzhou. Upon Ren, he bestowed the most abundant curse known to man.

“Immortality.

“It was supposed to be another battle, but the two of them had been taking far longer than usual. Both of us were worried— aware that something was amiss, but afraid to speak it aloud lest we manifest it into reality…”

Jing Yuan watches you pace nervously outside of the hall. From where he leans against the wall, he can see the frenzied fear in your eyes as you look out in the distance every few minutes, hoping to see Lunae and Ren in the horizon.

The General is equally as concerned, but he knows that he must remain grounded to keep you sane.

“Imbibitor Lunae and Ren are both capable warriors. I’m sure that they’re fine. They’re probably just falling behind,” Jing Yuan reasons. You shake your head in disagreement.

“It’s been weeks. That’s not normal. The last time it took this long, someone—” you cut yourself off, flinching. The man’s expression becomes grim. He knows you’re right— that your worry is not unwarranted.

Neither of you wanted to be “too late” again.

Walking up beside you, Jing Yuan nudges you gently.

“Let’s head out. We’ll find them ourselves,” the General assures. You offer a wry smile and nod, but before either of you can make a move, another voice interjects.

“No need. We’ve returned,” Lunae says as he approaches with Ren by his side. Jing Yuan can see your excitement, but then watches as you freeze, expression falling as you look at Ren. The General notices what you do, too.

It isn’t uncommon to return from prolonged battles covered in blood, tattered with memories of the ongoing war. However, Ren seems far too pristine to have just returned from a battlefield. He’s glowing in a way that seems… unnatural.

Your eyes shift to Imbibitor Lunae, and suddenly your eyes are cold— distant.

“I think you caught something in his mannerisms that I couldn’t. You saw something that I couldn’t see, quickly catching on that something was inherently wrong— that they were hiding something.”

“What happened?” you ask, a seriousness in your tone that felt incredibly off-putting, given that you were referring to your lover and close friend. Instead of a response, Ren reaches towards you, pulling you into a tight embrace as if his life depended on it.

You pause, carefully wrapping your arms around Ren, running fingers through his hair as you repeat your earlier question.

“What happened?” you inquire, almost pleading now. Ren stills in your arms, silently burying his face in your neck. You frown, looking to Lunae once more for answers. Jing Yuan doesn’t move from his spot, either, trying to make sense of what it is you’re picking up on.

Eventually, beneath your persistent gaze, Lunae cracks.

“Ren nearly died on the battlefield,” he admits. You tighten your grip on your lover, eyes wide with a shock that Jing Yuan mirrors.

“He looks perfectly fine… he’s walking on his own two feet, and there isn’t a trace of blood on him…” you note in disbelief. Imbibitor Lunae looks away, seeming guilty in the way his eyes fall.

“I know. That’s because I…” Imbibitor Lunae goes quiet, unable to bring himself to finish his thought. Jing Yuan narrows his eyes, arms crossing over his chest as he looks at the other.

“You what?” the General interrogates. However, the dragon doesn’t spare him a glance, instead looking to you with something that makes your eyes fill with fury. Before he can raise questions, you’re quick to clarify.

“You made him immortal? Why would you do such a grievous thing?!” you snap, forcefully separating yourself from your lover. Ren reaches for you desperately, but you take a step back. Jing Yuan easily recognizes the look of betrayal on your face.

“I can explain—” Ren starts, but you cut him off harshly.

“What is there to explain here?! I’ve treated the Mara-Struck— victims of the Sanctus Medicus, and you want to explain? I’m a healer and even I’m aware that immortality isn’t a remedy of any sort! It’s a venom! A curse!” you yell, eyes brimming with tears. Jing Yuan remains mute, unable to understand why anyone would resort to such a taboo method for any reason, especially given all that they’d witnessed together.

“Please, calm yourself and allow us to talk this o—” Before Lunae can finish his thought, you interrupt.

“Calm myself? Imbibitor Lunae, have you forgotten that I’m dying? In a few decades, I’ll be gone! Ren no longer has the mercy of dying by my side! He’ll have to witness everything!” you cry out, voice cracking as tears slip down your cheeks.

“He’ll endure so much suffering, and he’ll never be able to die…” you whisper, finally gathering enough strength to meet Ren’s gaze. “You promised.”

Ren is quick to scoop you into his arms, wiping your tears away with his thumb.

“I also promised to return to you. We’re both here now. That must count for something. Without immortality, I wouldn’t have returned to greet you again— to hold you again. And immortality doesn’t change a thing. I still plan to remain by your side for eternity,” he promises softly. You look up at him, an unfathomable sadness in your eyes.

Briefly, Jing Yuan catches you glancing at Lunae. There’s a wordless exchange in the expression you share with the Vidyadhara. The General has no idea what it is that you both say, but it’s enough because soon you’re releasing a defeated sigh.

“I’m glad you’re alright, Ren,” you say softly. Ren smiles, leaning down to kiss you gently. You reciprocate for a moment before pulling away, allowing yourself to enjoy the warmth of his presence.

Despite everything, Jing Yuan can tell that it isn’t something you’d ever move on from.

“You never brought up Ren’s immortality of your own accord ever again after that day. If it came up in conversation, you always excused yourself to be alone for a while.

“There was a time that I confronted you about it, though. I knew it was forbidden, but I needed to know what was going through your head. Honestly, I don’t think I could ever forget what you said to me that day.”

“Why wouldn’t I be upset, Jing Yuan?” you start, head in hands as you shut your eyes tight.

“There will come a time where Ren suffers unimaginable pain, and I won’t be there to help him. There will come a day where myself, Imbibitor Lunae, and even you aren’t there to support him through his suffering,” you explain. The General pauses, not having thought that far into the future.

You continue in his silence. “My death is just the start. I don’t think Ren understands how much of a tragedy that is. Soon, we will all leave him, and he’ll come to understand that death is far more merciful than being the last person left alive of all those you’ve grown to love.”

You frown and walk off, your words weighing heavily in Jing Yuan’s heart.

“I grew to understand exactly how right you were in your assumption as the years passed. When you faded away and crumbled— I witnessed firsthand how cruel his affliction was.

“Ren knew he couldn’t live without seeing you once more, I don’t think he ever thought about the inevitable day where he’d have to learn to live without you entirely.

“The day you disappeared… I could tell everything weighed heavily on your mind. In the face of your inevitable demise, you still worried for Ren.”

Jing Yuan lets out a soft sigh, watching Lunae and Ren leave for their duties. Glancing back to you on the bed, he tilts his head.

“You looked like you had more to say back then. Something else on your mind?” he asks as he seats himself on the edge of your bed. You look at him, a serious look in your eyes.

“I promise that, one day, I will find my way back to you all. One day, I’ll return, so Ren won’t have to suffer on his own,” you swear. Jing Yuan offers a sympathetic smile.

“Unless you’re a Vidyadhara, reincarnation is just a legend,” he mentions. You don’t respond, instead humming in acknowledgement to the General’s statement.

“Of course, I didn’t know you were one back then, but what I did know is that you were incredibly firm in your desire. Either way, I’d brushed it off.

“I left the room to make your medicine, but you had disappeared when I returned. Only then did I realize… that promise was your last wish— your final resolve.”

Jing Yuan continues his explanation, telling you the results of your disappearance.

Ren was never the same. He spent countless hours looking for you— searching for a body, but you’d vanished completely, much like the Mara-Struck who faded into nothingness. From that day forth, Ren’s mind fractured and he grew resentful of his curse.

As you predicted, the rest of your group slowly began to die out, your lover forced to suffer through each and every one knowing he’d never be granted the same reprieve.

Then came time for Imbibitor Lunae to pass and reincarnate.

“After Lunae died, Ren disappeared entirely, his mind shattered beyond repair— a shell of who he once was. Losing his bosom friend was the final straw.

“I tried to search for him, but he’d vanished from the Xianzhou Alliance entirely. I figured he didn’t want to be found, so I was forced to move on lest I suffered the same fate:

“Lost in our past without direction or will to live.”

Jing Yuan sighs as he finishes the story, shaking his head. “I thought it all a distant memory, then I saw you again on the Luofu as Bailu’s assistant. You looked the same way you did back then.”

“At first, I thought you just looked similar, but then I saw the horns and tail and I knew— you’d found your way back as promised, and you were a Vidyadhara. I’m sure I acted strange when we first met, but I was trying to confirm that it was really you,” he admits.

The memory of that day rushes to the forefront of your mind. The Arbitor-General had followed you and Bailu back to the clinic. His eyes were trained on your tail, watching the way it swayed as you worked before his gaze settled on your horns.

Jing Yuan had carefully observed you as you made medicine at Bailu’s work table, humming a tune that you’d heard from earlier in the day. It startled you how attentive he was being, but now it made sense.

“I confirmed it through your mannerisms and habits. I saw the way you carefully healed others. Then, you expressed familiarity towards me and that sealed it. Unfortunately, I knew you were without your memories.

“I had been keeping tabs on Blade since he appeared on the IPC’s most wanted list, and I vowed to protect you from him. If he saw you and you didn’t remember him, I had a feeling it wouldn’t go well,” Jing Yuan says, frowning.

“I thought protecting you meant guarding you from the truth so you never had to learn of the tragedy that became of your past lover, but I know now that you have to make this choice yourself. By deliberately concealing this, I’ve already hurt you enough,” he finishes softly, resting a comforting hand on your shoulder.

You remain silent and still, staring blankly ahead. From the corner of your eye, Bailu frowns.

“Are you alright?” she asks, preparing for any sort of pain that might occur as a result of everything.

Instead, tears begin to slip down your cheeks, dripping down onto your hands as you grip your robes tightly in your lap. Smiling sadly, you blink rapidly in an attempt to clear your vision of the glistening drops.

Jing Yuan is the first to react, cupping your face in his hands and wiping away your tears gently as you sniffle softly.

“What’s the matter?” the General questions, concern etched into his features. You shake your head, words caught in your throat.

Everything in your mind is clicking into place, pieces falling and fitting together.

Ah, of course. I promised this so long ago, your mind echoes. I said that I’d return— that I’d remember— so I could make it back to you and protect you from the curse you fell into.

Your shoulders shake as you begin to sob. The General pulls you into a tight embrace, Yanqing leaning against your side in an attempt to provide comfort as well.

You usually never remember any last reincarnations as a Vidyadhara. Memory is a spectrum for your kind, and you always ebbed on the side of starting with an entirely clean slate. It’s why you were so certain you’d die when you left to be born again.

You wouldn’t take any memories of your past with you, and you wouldn’t recall them.

Except, this time you did.

Dying and rebirthing with such a strong resolve meant that, since you awoke in this new life, you’ve always felt that something was missing.

Now, you know what it is.

But it’s too late, isn’t it?

You bury your face in Jing Yuan’s shoulder as you cry, mourning the past you lost, and the lover you abandoned in this world.

If Blade’s mind fractured so long ago, do you even hold a place in his memories anymore?

Is there anything you could do in your current state to help him?

Or was all of this remembrance for naught?

For this, you had no answer.

Hidden away somewhere in the Luofu, a woman observes a man from afar.

Kafka recognizes the distant expression Blade wears as he stares out at the scenery and passing Starskriffs. It’s vulnerable— longing— one that he only wears when he thinks no one is watching.

However, her attention is diverted elsewhere when her phone vibrates with an incoming text. Glancing down at the device, she smirks as she reads the message.

Kafka. Plans have changed. Blade’s initial wish will be granted.

The woman raises a brow in amusement, typing and replying to his message with a teasing response.

Even we aren’t capable of necromancy, Elio.

Instead of commenting on her witty remarks, he merely sends back a simple text which serves as enough of an explanation for Kafka.

The Vidyadhara has remembered themself, thus returning to who they once were.

Await new instructions.

The woman looks back up at Blade, smirking as she pockets her phone.

What new side of him will she be able to witness? What sort of expression will he have when Elio surprises him with this?

Kafka can’t wait to see how this story plays out.

tag rqs : @ceylestia - @thetwinkims - @astralsity - @kaminari-no-ritsusha - @jotaro-souped

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #honkai blade #hsr blade #blade hsr #honkai blade x reader #hsr blade x reader #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x reader #hsr fic #hsr fanfic #honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail fic #hsr angst #honkai star rail angst #cross posted on ao3 #ao3 crosspost #kaori-writes

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readyplayerhobi · 6 months

Text

Knife's Edge | Epilogue

; Mafia!Jungkook x Reader, Jimin x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, mild angst

; Word Count: 3.6k

; Synopsis: The Jeon Clan is Family, built on blood and loyalty. It’s been an unspoken fact that one day you will marry the heir to the Clan, Jeon Jungkook. You would be a fool to deny that you love him, but what happens when you meet a blue haired man who offers you a chance at normality?

; A/N: Recent interest in this series again has inspired me to finally write an epilogue - it's just fluffy nonsense, honestly. But I hope you enjoy it either way! Thank you for all the love on this series!

Previous Chapter

Five Years Later

Humming quietly, you carefully take the baby foxglove out of its pot and place it into the hole you've dug. The dirt is soft and malleable - not too hard to dig, but not borderline mud, either. The plant looks tiny compared to some of the giants surrounding it, but you know this little one will grow taller than them all.

It might not be much now, but in a few months, it will be a few feet high and blossoming with delicate purple blossoms, the petals sighing down to the ground. Beautiful flowers that will hide a dark secret - foxgloves are as deadly as they are pretty.

That wasn't why you were planting it, though. You just thought they were pretty, the reason why you'd planted everything in the extensive garden of your home. The mansion Jungkook lived in, and now you, was huge and the gardens were equally so.

Neither of his parents had ever cared what the gardens looked like, so they'd just hired landscapers and gardeners to care for it. But when you'd married Jungkook and officially moved in, you'd asked if you could take over the garden beds. It was a new passion you'd discovered over the months leading up to your wedding - hours spent knelt in the dirt in between your classes and exams.

Unlike people, plants weren't judging. They didn't care what you'd done, or what you thought and they had no opinions of you. They just existed, and they were happy to get the attention.

It probably wasn't too healthy, but you'd used the plants as therapy. Hours upon hours had been spent with you whispering all your secrets to them, your hopes and dreams and fears and regrets being woven into their leaves as they grew. A real therapist would've been more helpful, but what kind of therapist would be able to help someone like you?

They'd have to be Clan approved, which in turn would mean you couldn't possibly tell them what you really thought. No one knew why Jungkook and you had suddenly had a rift so deep that he'd refused to see you for weeks. And everyone knew that something bad had happened - Jungkook was, and still is, infamous in the Clan for his weak spot for you.

Anything you told a therapist would be spread throughout the Clan like wildfire, the winds of gossip spreading the fires of rumour faster and higher than you could hope to outrun. The whole Clan would know that you'd cheated on Jungkook, that you'd betrayed him in the worst way a woman could in the Clan. On top of that, everyone would know that Jungkook had overlooked it - that he'd opted to forgive you for your transgression and love you still.

You'd be vilified for being unfaithful, and he'd lose all respect from the Clan he now ruled.

No, you couldn't tell anyone what had happened. A secret you would take to your grave, with only 3 people aware of it outside of yourself. And none of them had any interest in it getting out.

Still, you hadn't wanted the ghost of unsaid anger and resentment haunting your relationship, so you'd done a lot of research into therapy. It’s not as good as going to an actual, qualified therapist, but it's better than nothing. Plus, you can only imagine the judgment if people find out Jungkook had been attending therapy - the backwards views of the Clan would have them screaming that he wasn't fit to lead if he was going to therapy of all things.

So you watched videos and you read things, until you had a basic understanding of how to navigate things. Jungkook and you talked things out instead of keeping secrets, you let him know if you were feeling lonely or sad and he let you know if he was feeling overwhelmed or unhappy. Some things you'd improvised yourself, all in the name of making sure you both communicated.

If there was an argument, then you would both write down why you were angry on a piece of paper and then let the other read it. Jungkook had thought this was silly at first, but getting out his stress and anger on paper instead of shouting it let him think through what he was annoyed over. Most of the time, you both discovered that you weren't angry at the other, but at something else and it had simply bubbled up.

Just last year, you'd both had an argument with you snapping at Jungkook for not taking his laundry upstairs. He'd snapped back, pointing out that he'd been busy all day and the laundry was the least of his worries. Cue a ten-minute argument before Jungkook grabbed a notepad, ripped out two pages and handed you a pen. The two of you had scribbled furiously, brows creased in concentration and jaws tight with frustration.

What had started with you being annoyed at him for not taking his laundry, after asking him many times, was revealed to be that you were feeling lonely in the big house on your own. He'd been busy, true, which meant he'd barely been home for a month and when he had been home, he'd been either asleep or locked in his office. Whilst you'd been able to graduate college and take a job as a teacher - much to the shock and horror of pretty much everyone in the Clan - it had summer vacation. You'd had no work to do during the time off.

As unhealthy as it was, he was still your only friend in the Clan - other women steered clear of you after the Incident - and you'd been desperately lonely and sad. You’d had casual friends - acquaintances from work and a few elderly folks from the gardening club you'd joined, but no one you could be open and honest with. You'd wanted your husband, your best friend.

Ironically, Jungkook had been irritated by his work just like he'd said. But when he drove down into it, he was annoyed that the busiest period had occurred at the same time you were off work. He'd wanted to spend time with you, maybe even go on vacation, yet he'd barely seen you. Add on his irritation at idiotic people in the Clan putting people's lives in danger and he'd been a powder keg of annoyance.

Understandably, you'd both apologised once you'd figured out why the argument had happened. Though Jungkook had felt terrible that you'd been so sad - he'd never quite forgiven himself or the Clan for isolating you, even if it had been warranted at the time.

Patting down the soil around the plant until it's fully compacted, you hum lightly before brushing your hands together. Dirt falls to the floor from the gloves and you sit up, stretching your back with a wince and a groan. As much as you love being in the garden, your back certainly doesn't.

Standing, you grab the empty plant pots and begin to tidy up after yourself. It's meant to rain later tonight, so you don't bother watering the new plants.

Before you even get to the door that leads to the kitchen, you hear the low tones of Jungkook's voice from inside. He's home early, you think, you check the time on your phone before washing your hands in the sink.

“Here's mommy!” He coos, and you turn to see him holding your four-month-old daughter in his arms, her back to his chest. Jungkook grins at you over the top of her head, his hair perfectly gelled into place as dimples dot his tan skin.

He hadn't even bothered changing yet, still in his crisp all-black suit that he'd left in this morning. The only thing he was missing was his shoes - instead, he was just wearing black socks.

Hana squeals with excitement as she recognises you, chubby legs kicking out as her arms windmill and your heart swell with love and adoration for her. For him, too. A few years ago, you'd thought this would all be an impossible dream - yet here you are, married to him and with the perfect little girl.

“Hey, beanie! You being good for daddy?” Leaning forward, you tickle her sides and smile in delight as she wriggles in Jungkook's arms. She's such a perfect baby and has been adored by Jungkook and you since you'd seen the two pink lines in the pregnancy test. Life without her was an impossible thought, and the whole Clan knew that Hana was more important to Jungkook than anything in the Clan. He didn't care if the idea of him being a loving parent shocked some of them, if anything he believed that there were people in the Clan who needed to see what an actual parent should be.

The only thing that concerned you was Jungkook's love for Hana and you were also well known to other Clans. A deep-rooted fear was that one of them would try to attack him through Hana, despite the high levels of protection he put in place. It was something that the two of you could only attempt to mitigate, as there was no way to completely cut off the threat. Even turning whistle-blower to the government wouldn't guarantee protection.

But Jungkook did what he could. You both at least had the relief of knowing that Hana, and yourself, were safe from the rival Clan in your city. Jimin had taken over a few years ago, and even though your friendship was much more sporadic than it had been, he'd made it clear that no one was to hurt you or Hana for fear of a war breaking out.

That was his excuse, but you knew he just didn't want you or your baby girl hurt. Whilst Jungkook wasn't exactly thrilled that you were still friends with Jimin in some way, he'd been grateful to find out that Jimin had given you friendship and comfort when the whole Clan had turned against you. He was even more grateful to find out the protection that Jimin had bestowed, and if it wouldn't have caused issues with both sides then he would have let you introduce Jimin to Hana.

No one could ever say Jungkook wasn't a reasonable person. If anything, he was too reasonable when it came to you, but he'd put aside his dislike of Jimin because he'd been the only person there for you in your darkest days.

“I'm guessing you turned off the monitor, as mine didn't go off.” You ask Jungkook, gesturing to the baby monitor attached to your belt. He liked to surprise you with her, and there was nothing more you loved than seeing your big, tough husband holding his tiny baby girl. You didn't understand the logic of it, but it made you want to do things that could not be spoken aloud around Hana.

“Yeah, she was just starting to wake so I thought I'd take her instead of bothering you. You seemed pretty happy in the garden.” He replies, kissing Hana’s dark hair fondly.

No matter what the Clan thought of you, there could be no denying that Hana was Jungkook's daughter. She'd inherited his eyes, from their shape to the way they seemed to shine at nothing. The two of them next to each other made the family resemblance even stronger.

You'd made some terrible decisions in your life, but you liked to think Hana made up for them. She sure made Jungkook happier than he'd ever been, which was more than enough for you.

Leaning forward, you kiss Hana’s forehead and cherish the squeal of delight she gives at the affection. She adores her mommy and daddy - you won't accept anyone’s comments that she's a baby and they all love their parents that much. Hana, of course, is special.

“Someone's had a good nap, haven't you? You get it from your daddy, he sleeps like a log, too.” Smiling, you tickle her stomach around Jungkook's arms and enjoy the sharp peals of laughter she gives. Pregnancy hadn't been fun, and there were nights when you questioned why you'd done this, but it all went away when you heard that laughter.

“The sleep genes are strong in the Jeon's.” Jungkook laughs, leaning past Hana to press a kiss to your lips. He's not wearing his lip ring, or his earrings, as Hana had a habit of grabbing them and not letting go. Jungkook might be the head of an entire Clan that does plenty of shady shit, but he whined like a baby himself when Hana was tugging on those rings and you were constantly afraid she was going to accidentally rip them from him.

You missed them, but he put them back in for date nights or when he was going to his job. Miss Hana would have to wait till she was older to get to see daddy with his piercings again.

You're distracted away from that thought process by the way Hana starts making familiar noises, her tiny body bouncing in Jungkook's arms whilst her eyes are focused firmly on your chest.

“Okay, looks like someone is hungry.” You say, reaching out and taking Hana into your arms. She almost immediately starts nuzzling, trying to root out her source of food and makes some cranky noises when your top prevents her from reaching her goal. It’s a familiar process by now, and you take comfort in it as you head through to the living room - despite the house becoming Jungkook’s after he took over for his father, the two of you only use half of it, with the other half still housing his parents.

You’d had no interest in kicking them out of their home, especially as you thought this house was ridiculously large anyway. So, instead, Jungkook renovated the mansion until it was technically two houses in one with an office section in the centre for Clan business. It gave you the privacy you needed, without taking away from the prestige it gave to Jungkook. You didn’t have to worry about Clan business being brought into your personal space, as there was no way to access your side from the offices.

The living room was still an obscene size, but you’d chosen an equally large sofa to take up most of the space. It was somewhere that Jungkook and you enjoyed laying on to relax after a long day, and Jungkook had installed a screen projector instead of a TV. Hana was going to love this room when she was older, and you could already see the fights between her and Jungkook when they wanted to watch something in particular.

“Hang on, lemme just sort this-” Jungkook mutters as he moves past you, heading over to where the corner of the sofa intersects with the other part and patting the cushions into place. He was the master at creating a snuggle zone for you with enough support that nursing Hana didn’t cause any backache, but today you wanted to enjoy the fact he was here with you.

“Can you sit with us? Or let me lean on you?” You ask, bouncing Hana lightly as you try to distract her enough until he’s done. She’s getting impatient though, and the soft whining sounds are starting to turn a little more upset. Another few minutes and she’ll start crying.

Jungkook pauses, looking up at you with raised brows before smiling. He doesn’t even try to hide the happiness that takes over, and your heart skips a little at the pure joy and love radiating from him.

“Yeah, gimme a sec.” He says, rearranging the cushions so it’s comfy for two to sit in before quickly taking off his jacket. It’s thrown onto the sofa without a second glance, and you take a moment to wince at the elegant fabric - it’s going to crease and you know for a fact that jacket is worth a few grand. But he’s never cared about stuff like that, and you need Hana fed sooner rather than later so you don’t mention it.

“Okay, come on princess, let’s get our little bean fed.” Standing back for a second, Jungkook grins at you happily as he rolls the sleeves of his shirt up his forearms, revealing the ink on them that is a colourful contrast to the rest of him. He sits down and holds out an arm, which you happily sink into before readjusting until you’re comfortable enough to sit for a while.

Hana’s face creases and the first sounds of that heartbreaking cry start to leave her. Hurriedly, you coo to her as you lift your shirt and pull your nursing bra down slightly. There’s a brief moment where you’re worried she’s going to start screaming, but her mouth latches onto your nipple and almost immediately she settles as she begins to feed heartily.

Letting out a deep breath, you let your head roll back onto Jungkook’s shoulder before smiling at him.

“Crisis averted.” You laugh, wincing ever so slightly as Hana suckles a little too painfully. Jungkook smiles at you and looks down at his little girl, his smile turning so soft. Being around Hana is always so soothing to him, even when she’s screaming with tears flowing because she’s the complete opposite of his job as the head of the Clan. She’s peace and joy and happiness and love whereas his job is often anger and frustration and violence.

He’s made it clear to you that Hana will get to do whatever she wants when she grows up. If she wants to go to college, she can or if she wants to join the Clan, then she can. Jungkook refuses to let her gender hold her back, and even though he doesn’t want her involved in the dark side of his life, he’s going to let her decide. If she wants to walk away from the Clan forever, then he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she’ll live a safe life. There’s going to be those in the Clan who will bristle at these decisions he’s making, but he’s already told you that he doesn’t care. His daughter and her happiness are more important than anything else, and you’ll support him 100%.

Sighing quietly, you let yourself relax and just watch Hana as she feeds. Her life is so uncomplicated right now, and she’s got so much to look forward to as she grows.

“Are you happy?” You ask Jungkook, not even realising you were thinking the words until they’ve left your mouth. There’s a moment of silence as Jungkook processes what you’ve said, and you feel him tense ever so slightly.

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?” The tension in him is from confusion more than anything else, and you let out a soft sigh before shifting until the back of your head is resting in the crook of his neck. Of course, he’s happy, why wouldn’t he be? But deep down inside, you know that you’ve never forgiven yourself for what you did, and there’s a part of you that’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The small part of you that’s terrified you’ll make a mistake one day and Jungkook will throw you out again, only this time keeping your daughter. It’s ridiculous, and you know that he’d never do it, but you’ve never been able to get rid of that tiny voice that says dark things to you in the back of your mind.

“Ignore me, seriously, ignore me - I’m happy and I know you’re happy. I love you. Hana is perfect, and I love her so much. She’s the best present you’ve ever given me. I dunno, I’m just tired and taking crap.” Letting out a huff of laughter, you inhale deeply and let it out in a slow motion. You’re not lying, you are tired lately and still hormonal. A four-month-old baby who relies on you to feed her means that you’re exhausted, and you’re already feeling your body start to shut down as you sit comfortably in the arms of your husband with the warm weight of your baby against you.

Jungkook presses his lips to your temple, letting them rest there for a moment.

“One day, you’ll finally believe me when I say I forgive you. But I’ll say it again - I forgive you, and I love you, and I don’t want to spend a day of my life without you. If I died tomorrow, then I’d die happy knowing I got the chance to love you and Hana. So yes, I’m happy and I’ve been happy and I’ll be happy. Please, stop beating yourself up for it.” He kisses your head again, and you’re too tired and hormonal to be hearing his words rationally.

You start to cry, your chest heaving in a way that makes Hana grumble at being jostled but the thought of him being gone makes your heart ache so painfully.

“Please don’t die, please.” Your plea makes him laugh quietly, and he wraps his arm around your front, just above where Hana is, and hugs you.

“Okay, okay, those were the wrong words to say when you’re nursing. My bad, forget I said it. I’m not gonna die, okay? Just…focus on that I love you. I love you, princess. Always have, always will.” Tears falling down your face, you tilt your head up until you’re able to kiss him. It’s nothing vulgar or intense, but the depth of emotions in that small kiss makes you feel so much.

“I love you, too. And Hana, I love her so much.”

#armiesnet #networkbangtan #jungkook fluff #jimin fluff #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jimin fic #jimin fanfiction #jimin fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jimin x you #jimin x reader

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igotanidea · 4 months

Text

Specter: Jason Todd x ghost!reader (pt 1)

Warnings: death of reader (duh!), death and resurrection of the other main character, angst

***

She was his best friend.

His only friend.

More than his friend.

Knowing each other since they were kids running loose on the streets of Gotham forced to tend to themselves.

He chuckled at the memory of their first meeting.

Fighting over few apples and a half loaf of bread she managed to rim from some man while batting her elalashes and making innocent face of a street-starving girl.

Well, she was a street starving girl, but as far away from innocent as they come, of which fact Jason was almost brutally made aware upon trying to steal some of it from her. Gaining a bruised eye and a scratch that left a tiny scar on his arm instead.

A well-deserved scar, cause even after all those years he was mentally cringing at the memory he was actually trying to rob a girl his age of food. Terrible thought. In his defence, he was starving himself.

Fortunately, they somehow came to an agreement and since then, there was always someone to care for and who could take care of them by their side.

Y/N and Jason.

Together even when not.

Inseparable even after that batmobil-tires accident, cause there was no way in hell Jason would start living with the Bruce Wayne and left his best only friend behind.

Nah.

So would anyone be surprised that after a while they actually started falling in love? Or maybe they were in love from the beggining since the apples but never noticed?

The point however stood, obvious to everyone but those two donkey level stubborn young adults.

So apart from a few stolen kisses, helluva blushing, talking through the nights, secret awkward hugs and one attempt at intimacy, nothing—

Ok, you know what scratch that last sentence. A LOT has happened in the span of a few weeks. And it brought them significantly closer. Hoping for more and actually trying to work towards more.

So when Jason, at the mature age of 16 went for another Batman-related mission, he pecked her lips and promised to have the real talk about their future when he gets back.

Spoiler alert: He never did.

And when Batman walked to the Batcave with no Robin to follow him and broke the news it was like Y/N’s heart was gone with Jason’s life.

Torn from her chest since at that moment it stopped beating and everything lost its meaning.

She refused to eat, drink, talk and get up in the morning. Spending her days in isolation or sitting by his symbolical grave since the body was never found.

Withering her young life away at the graveyard.

No one ever told her the truth.

***

Miraculously Jason came back five years later. Completely different than a scrawny kid everyone used to know him. Raging terror upon Gotham for a while before actualy forming some kind of allegiance with the Bats. And at some point, the question had to be asked. And the hard truth had to be revealed.

„Where is Y/N?” he whispered, getting shy, gulit, regret and remorse filling him to the brim as he was searching through the entire manor in search for her.

A few saddened looks were exchanged between his siblings as those words rung in the air.

Oh, no.

„Where the hell is she?!” Jason yelled, ready to punch a wall, hit Dick in the face and beat the shit out of Bruce for keeping something from him.

„Jaybrird—„

„Do not fucking call me that Grayson! Where is my Y/N?!”

„No one told you—„

„She;s dead.” Damian muttered, unaware of the consequences of dropping such a bomb on his brother. „We burried her a year—„

Jason roared like a wounded animal, nearly making the glass in the window shutter.

„DEAD?!!”

„Jason—„

„STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!”

„I think you should-„

„YOU DON’T GET TO TELL ME WHAT I SHOULD BE DOING DICKHEAD!”

The rage creeping inside Jason’s head and heart was suffocating. Beating the post-Pit madness multiple times and seeming neverending. He panted and wailed, wanting to destroy something. Kill someone. Anyone, but preferably the one responsible for Y/N;s premature departure from the world. Set a fire to the manor. Break into the League of Assasin’s headquarters and let them kill him. For good this time. Crawl into the deepest darkest pit and die.

„Jason—„

„WHO DID THIS?!”

„It was—„

„I WANT A NAME!”

„We don’t-„

„I WANT THAT PERSON;S HEAD ON A STICK!”

No matter how hard Dick, Tim, Cass, Steph and Barbara tried to get to him (cause obviously Damian was just watching with curiosity), nothign worked.

„It was an accident.” Bruce muttered, finally joining the family allured by the screams.

„AN ACCIDENT?!”

„A car crash. She was just a pedestian, did nothing wrong. The driver was DUI.”

„SO WHAT?! YOU’RE A FUCKING BILLIONAIRE, YO COULDN’T HAVE PROVIDED HER WITH A GOOD FUCKING DOCTOR!?”

„She died instantly.”

„SHE—„ Jason’s voice broke, all the anger finally subsiding replaced by the pain. „She what- ?”

„I am sorry jason…”

„SHE WAS YOUR RESPONSIBLITY!”

„No, she was your resposibilty Jason. You were the one who befrended her, fell for her, brought her into this life. Should have known better.”

„SHUT UP!”

„She stayed here after you died instead of moving forward, unable to forget you.”

„SHUT THE FUCK UP!” it was impossible to listen to Bruce only fueling up the guilt and pain iside Jason’s heart.

„She—„

„Master Bruce.” Now Alfred came into the scene, preventing another blood bath that were bound to happen between a father and a son. ‘Perhaps we should give master Jason some space now. Miss Y/N’s death took a heavy toll on all of us, didn;t it?”

”Hm.”

„Come Jay. Upstairs.” Cass smiled at him to the best of her abilities „You need rest.”

Hazily he took a few steps forward but didn;t miss Bruce’s pained whisper and haunted expression.

„You’re not the only one who lost her…”

***

It’s been five years since then.

But now, as Jason was standing by her grave it all felt surreal.

Y/N Y/L/N, daughter, friend, prankster.

That last word was something she would laugh at.

But he was not.

Five years. The same amount he was gone, same amount for which she believed him to be dead, visiting his grave.

Did she feel all those feels he was dealing with right now?

Emptiness.

Numbness.

Anger.

And that pressuring what if-.

They could have been happy together. Working though their difficulties and becoming real. Maybe starting a family. Escaping all this shitty vigilantism life pushed them both into.

Destroying both of their lifes.

One cold six feet under, the other cold six feet inside.

„I miss you.” He whispered in the space, putting a buquet of flowers on the ground next to the ledger „You will forever be the one to haunt me.”

With that he turned around, walking away with head hung low and hands in the pockets of his jacket.

Getting back to his apartment.

In which she could have been with him if things were to work out differently.

part 2 : phantom

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x y/n #jason todd angst #red hood angst

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imaginesheaven · 8 months

Text

National Anthem – F!Reader x Price (x little bit Valeria)

Summary: After Graves’ betrayal another villain appears on the screen for the Task Force. They are nothing like all the others before.

This is kind of inspired by the song National Anthem by Lana Del Rey. I wrote all of this down, but I’m actually not sure what to do with it, so enjoy this little piece of pure braindump. I’m also not sure if I like this at all, so I would really appreciate to know what you think about it :)

Warnings: MDNI – sexual talk; swearing; angst; mentions of death

Length: 2.7 k

“Laswell, you look like you could use a drink”, Price sits down at the bar handing her a glass full of the best whiskey. “Thank you, John, but alcohol isn’t going to get rid our problems this time”, Kate takes a sip of her drink.

Her words make the whole Task Force kind of uncomfortable. Laswell is usually convinced that they can manage everything that the world throws at them, but this time she does have her doubts.

“At first, I thought we only have a usual Russian problem, but it turns out to be way bigger and more than just that”, she gets out two pictures from her jacket pocket to put them upside down onto the table, “There is no room to fail this time.” John exchanges a brief glance with his team, “Hit us, Kate.” As if there would be ever room to fail in their field of work.

“Alejandro contacted me a few hours ago fuming. Valeria got bailed out of jail with an amount of money we all only can dream about. I did a lot of digging to find out what the hell is going on. A woman paid the money to get Valeria back to her El Sin Nombre cartel. It was the same person, who overtook the Shadow Company after Graves’ got killed. This woman is going to be a big problem gathering herself the best army”, Laswell pushes one of the pictures towards John.

The Captain can feel his heart stop for a second as he turns the picture around just to find a very familiar face looking back at him. A thick coldness starts to spread in his chest; doom setting slowly in.

“Price?”, Gaz asks quite concerned about John’s silence. The Captain keeps staring as the seconds tick by. “Fuck”, it’s the only thing he says and hands the picture to Gaz. John literally prayed years ago to never see your oh so beautiful face ever again. His heart can’t get over the fact that you are still looking the same. The way you glance at the camera with a winning smirk makes his knees weak. You know that you were observed from afar and you did not give a single fuck about it.

“You know her?”, Kate can’t explain otherwise his reaction. Price nods his head in agreement, “(Y/F/N) (Y/L/N). Met her once years ago. We had a mission together, but never saw her again after that.” He really hopes none of them can see through his lie. It was way more than just a mission. It was way more complicated than that.

Even after all this time John feels everything like it has been just yesterday. The way your hands have been roaming over his chest. So fucking close to him. Skin on skin. The way you felt amazing underneath him. As well as the way you broke his heart into thousand pieces. If there would be ever a regret he has to live through, it would be you.

Price doesn’t tell them a single thing about it. He will not go through every detail of his biggest mistake with his entire team. That’s something only between you and him for the rest of his life.

“So, she is military?”, Gaz asks as Soap hands the picture to Ghost. Neither of them can’t deny that you are absolutely breathtaking as much as you are deadly probably.

“Yes, (Y/N) worked for a special forces team in the American military. There is nothing much to know since almost everything is classified. Only a handful or so have the security rank to gather that information. The team included five members with the call signs X-1 to X-5, which sounds very nice, right? X-1 means Executer-1, so they called them actually Killer-1 to Killer-5. She is one of the best”, Laswell answers and pulls another picture out of her jacket.

John already knows that the picture will be you in your impressive completely black Executer-gear. He hates and loves this one so much. “No, Kate. (Y/N) is the best”, Price doesn’t say those words very lightly, but they are the truth. If you are going to be their enemy, it will be a fucking war.

“She took over the Shadow Company and the El Sin Nombre cartel? For what? What is her goal?”, Gaz can’t make the connections yet. Kate let’s out a deep sigh and turns around the last picture, “I think she is going for this man.”

The Captain shakes his head, “Makarov? (Y/N) is going for the big kill. If she can gather Russians, the Shadow Company and the El Sin Nombre cartel around her, we are all doomed. With that (Y/N) can take over every army and if that happens, she will go back to America getting her final revenge.”

“What do you know, John?”, Kate is almost kind of mad that she isn’t fully in the picture apparently like Price himself. “(Y/N) made a decision the military didn’t want to see. X-2 to X-5 were supposed to execute her. The members were named after their ranks, so (Y/N) was Executer 1 – the best of them. She killed every single one of her former teammates. The American Government classified everything to keep people from talking. (Y/N) escaped in the end, but all of that were rumors years ago. Everyone who told them got silenced. The military didn’t want to acknowledge her existence anymore. So, who really knows if that’s real or not”, Price knows exactly that everything he just told was real.

Neither of them dares to interrupt the silence thinking about the worst that could happen. Someone as power-driven and skilled as you will bring hell over those who did you wrong. What they don’t know is that you are halfway through your plan to conquer the world like you want it to.

A few hours earlier…

“Ah, Valeria. Nice to meet you in person finally. (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N). At your service”, you give the soldier your best smile to greet her properly. She raises one of her eyebrows still unsure about your intentions, “Why did you pay for my freedom?”

You mention towards the waiting car, “Let’s talk in the car. It’s way cooler in their and it would be only fair to bring you back to your cartel.” Valeria follows your invitation, “If you try to do something stupid I will kill you.” You can’t help yourself but laugh as you get in the car after her, “I really don’t doubt that for a second.”

“So, what’s the deal, hermosa?”, Valeria asks after taking a sip of the cool drink you gave her. You lean forward smiling knowing exactly how to expose your cleavage and use your body to get what you want. Valeria’s eyes follow just like you planned.

“Mi vida, I want your El Sin Nombre cartel to work with my Shadow Company. I am working towards a goal that is very important to me”, you explain to her leaving out a few important details. Valeria doesn’t ask but you could see the question in her eyes.

“Graves got … detained by me. His former soldiers are under my wings now. And well, there is no nice way to tell you this, but your people are also mine”, you keep on smiling knowing exactly she will understand the hidden threat.

“So, the rumors are true that you are gathering an army. They warned me about you, hermosa. Take my men if you need to. You paid for my freedom”, Valeria knows when she is in a situation without options. She is in your hands without any chance of an escape, better playing along for now.

“I’m really glad you took that so well. Graves wasn’t really cooperating”, you lean back taking a sip of your own drink. Valeria knows how to pick her fights and you are much more powerful than she thought.

“Well, the Gringo didn’t know how to handle dangerous women. Especially when they are as breathtaking as you are, mi vida”, Valeria holds up her glass to clink hers with yours. She can’t help herself but be enchanted by you.

You have already wrapped Graves around your little finger with your sex appeal until you took what was his. Now Valeria, next one will be Makarov. And you are pretty sure he will not resist you just like the others. Your plan is going wonderful. Now comes the fun part…

The ringing of his phone snaps Price out of his deep focus on working out a plan to bring you down before you can raise hell. No matter how many options his brain goes through it will never be good enough to keep up with your next steps.

“Captain Price”, he is only paying half attention to the caller on the other side of the line. “Hi, John”, your sweet voice rings in his ears over and over again. Price is not a man to get shocked easily, but right now his mind is absolutely blank. There are literally not words to form a proper sentence.

“Oh, I wish I could see your face right now. Happy to hear that I’m still alive?”, you can’t help yourself to let a heartfelt laugh, which brings John’s heartrate into a very dangerous zone. “Why are you calling?”, he tries to keep calm, but everything in him turns slowly into panic mode. It’s unusual for him. Only you can make him feel this way.

“Oi, don’t you know anymore how small talk works, muppet? How are you doing? What have you been up to the last decade? We really need to work on your manners, handsome”, you didn’t mean to sound it seductively, still you are not mad about it. You don’t have to be in the same room with John to know that you are still going under his skin with so much ease.

“John, humor me for a second. How have you been? Tell me a bit about your little Task Force”, your voice could play on repeat for eternity and John would still not get enough of it. In this moment he hated you so much for all the love he still has for you in his heart. But the two of you are a shadow of the past.

“You haven’t changed, so I’m pretty sure you know already everything about my team”, John will not give in. Not this time. “Yeah, but it would have been nice to hear it from you. Do you really think your Task Force is good enough to keep up with me? Are they ready to do whatever it needs to take down the devil herself?”, you have been watching him and his team for a while now; tracking their success as a team and still they will never be as good as you are.

“What happened to you? This isn’t you, (Y/N)”, John’s voice is only a whisper over the line. You don’t want to admit it, but you actually missed how sweet your name sounds when it comes over his lips. “Betrayal. So much betrayal that I finally found solace in power and revenge”, you reply replaying in your head what happened long ago.

“You killed innocent people… Children…”, John remembers how you stood right in front of him; trying to explain everything, but he wouldn’t hear a word about it. He knows now that you made the right decision back then. His younger self didn’t know it.

“You draw the line wherever you need it, Captain! Isn’t that something you like to tell your team? I did that, but what did I get for sacrificing so much? Nothing. The military sent my own team after me. You left me. I lost everything to save thousands of lives. But you know what? I will gain so much more for sacrificing those lives now. Revenge is best served cold”, once you get what you want, you will never have to defend yourself ever again, “John, we both know that villains are also human beings with a dramatic backstory. Just like the heroes.”

“You called just to tell me all of that?”, John can almost feel his heart bleeding; knowing he is part of the problem. He is one of the reasons you turned your back against humanity. “No, since we have quite the past together, I wanted to give you a change. I can be merciful, if I want to. You have 24 hours to find Makarov to stop me”, your voice transforms from being bitter to cheerful in a second.

“You already know where he is, eh?”, Price realizes that you are playing with him. You know exactly there would be no chance for him to win this battle. “Oh, of course. I would never go into a conversation like this without having plan beforehand, handsome. 24 hours, big boy. Time is ticking”, without a further word you end the call leaving John alone in a deafening silence. This is a fucking war neither John nor the Task Force can win.

Bonus:

“It’s over, (Y/N). Lay down your gun”, Price points his weapon at you as he makes his way towards you. A slight smile appears on your lips before you do what he says. Your little handgun compared to his gets put on the table right in front of you.

You can’t help yourself but admire how handsome he looks after all this time you have seen him. He is aging like a fine wine. For a moment you remember how young he had looked back when he still was a Lieutenant.

“Don’t worry, I’m not a sore loser”, you raise your hands so he can see them clearly. For once you are not a threat to him. Slowly you make your way around the table. He keeps his gun pointed at you, but still lets you come as close as possible. His eyes never leaving yours for a second.

“We all know it was your decision to lose. You had everything to bring hell upon us. So, why do you give up now?”, John’s finger ache to stroke your cheek softly; to feel your warmth against his skin once again. Your eyes bore into his; looking straight into his soul. “And we both know I can’t do anything against my weakness, John. You are still the only one I don’t want to hurt.”

Your words touch his soul; breathing back live into him. For a moment neither of you know what to say. Softly you push away his gun and he let it happen. The two of you are so damn close now almost breathing the same air.

“Do you still love me?”, John can hear the pain but also the hope in your voice. There is no need to deny the truth any longer. He can’t ignore anymore how his heart calls your name over and over again. How it has been doing that for the last few years.

“Yes, I always have and I always will…. I’m so sorry for everything”, he caresses your cheek with his hand and you lean into the touch; yearning for his attention for such a long time already. “It’s okay. I love you too, John…”, you reply letting your tears fall freely now.

“… But neither heroes nor villains get happy endings, handsome. Right person, wrong time. Maybe we will find each other in the next life again. Good bye, John”, you place a soft kiss on his lips. Both of you savoring this moment as long as possible.

A single shot rings through the silence, then a body hitting the ground. And that’s how this story ends.

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steviewashere · 3 months

Text

Terrifyingly Intense

Rating: General CW: Minor References to Sex, Steve Harrington's Self Worth Issues Tags: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Arguing, Apologizing, Making Up, Steve Harrington has Self Esteem Issues, Emotionally Hurt Steve Harrington, Emotionally Hurt Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington is a Lover, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Happy Ending

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is terrifying."

💕—————💕

Steve doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.

He’s pretty incapable of being normal about how he loves Eddie. From week two of their relationship, Steve was ready to get down on one knee and propose. Which is insane of him. They’ve been close friends since Eddie woke up in early April. And somewhere in there, Steve said the words all over again with true intent and intense feeling. Now it’s December and they’ve been together for less than a month. And Steve is driving himself up a wall.

But it makes him sick to his stomach.

Yeah, he said “I love you”, to Eddie. He’s said it out of fear in the hospital. Said it with hysteria in that field some weeks ago. But that doesn’t change the way Steve wants to say it again. In a sobering moment. When they’re doing something mundane. And he hasn’t disappointed anybody around him or nearly lost anybody to some third world grave danger.

He should know how to do this.

Yet, here he is in their little relationship—which, truly, feels too intense and big for human language—pulling himself away whenever Eddie wants to see him or talk to him or be with him.

Logically, he shouldn’t be doing something so stupid.

But—God—he’s so afraid. Afraid that Eddie will wake up one day, realize just how intense and lonely and nuts Steve is, and he’ll break off what they have. And then…Well, then Eddie won’t wanna be friends, he’ll stop hanging around, he’ll make up excuses to not have Hellfire in Steve’s dining room, he’ll do something crazy like unfriend all of them, he’ll get the fuck out of Hawkins, he’ll leave everything he’s ever known behind.

Yeah, Steve can’t be the cause of that.

So, he hides away. Keeps himself busy. Occupied, whatever. Hands never idle. Brain never quiet. Eyes never rested. And he stays away from Eddie.

——— By the second week of Steve’s little shenanigan, Eddie has caught on.

It’s obvious by the hurt that simmers in his eyes. His soft scowl. The lingering touches that used to make Steve’s skin light up with arousal, now fleeting. Just as fleeting as every other love anything Steve’s ever involved himself in. But he’s too afraid of whatever realization Eddie will make of him.

To be vulnerable, well that’s like death to Steve. He remembers one of the last times he did so. Sans Robin’s confession, because Steve doesn’t think he had an actual thing for her—he’s easily convinced, okay, and he’s also an extremely lonely person. But Nancy definitely left her mark on his self worth, that’s for certain. Bullshit bounces around his—what he thinks—empty skull. If he allows himself to love strongly, he’ll be bullshit eventually. If he forces himself to pull away, he’ll probably still be bullshit.

He won’t win either way.

And that’s apparent by the next time Eddie comes pounding on his front door. Very literally. His fist making the whole door shake.

Steve rips it open, ready to spit fire at whoever is there, but all words die on his tongue in the face of Eddie’s open anger. Eddie’s face is furrowed everywhere possible, his eyes are like lasers, skin red and redder as he looks at Steve.

“Hey, Eds,” Steve tries to coo.

“Cut the shit, Harrington,” Eddie growls back. He shoves his way past Steve. Stumbling into the foyer. It’s been raining and Eddie’s soaked, dripping water from his leather jacket onto the floor, but Steve is too stunned to do anything about it.

In fact, Steve’s stomach is lurching. His mouth filling with saliva. Ready to puke. He shuts the door behind himself, turning around to fully face Eddie. “What—uh—What’s wrong, babe?”

Eddie looks around the space. As if hunting for something. His eyes are sharp when he glares back. “You aren’t busy,” he spits, “you didn’t have a shift at work, I already asked Robin. And you very much so aren’t sick.” He crosses his arms over his chest. The squeak of his jacket loud between them. “When you’re sick, you’re miserable. Like a wet fucking cat. You make a whole ordeal of it. And I come to your rescue every time. Yet, you’re lying to me.” He steps closer into Steve’s space. Steve steps away, back slamming into the door. “Why are you lying to me?”

Steve shakes his head. “I’m not, Eds. I wouldn’t—“ He bunches his palms at his sides. They’re sweating. His stomach still heavy and twisting. Chest pulsing. “—I wouldn’t lie to you. I don’t know—“

“Then why are you pulling away?” Eddie is practically pleading for an answer. His voice goes pitchy. “I hardly see you anymore. You claim your busy or sick or whatever—But you never are!” He exclaims, his words echoing.

Finally, Steve finds his strength to move. Stepping around Eddie, speeding into the kitchen. Eddie is following him, his footfalls heavy and clumsy, chasing. He won’t give Eddie an answer because he’s not sure which words to even say.

“Sorry I’m pulling away, I love you too much.” That doesn’t even make any fucking sense. Steve never makes sense. This whole thing is starting to make him dumb.

He pulls open the fridge, sticking his head inside, acting as if he’s about to make food. His hands rummaging, digging through his things, knocking containers over, nearly breaking some glass condiment bottles. If he can just get Eddie to grow disinterested in this conversation, maybe he’ll leave and Steve can stew in his feelings, up until he actually knows what to say.

God, what is wrong with him?

“Talk to me, Steve,” Eddie is demanding. “Please just talk to me. Is it something I did? Did I hurt you the last time we had sex or something? Were you dissatisfied with the last date I took you on? Because I can think of a million other things to do, to take you to experience, if you would only talk to me!” He begins to shout. Steve flinches where his head is still buried. He’s always hated arguing, reminds him of his parents, if he’s being honest. But Eddie doesn’t know that. And he hasn’t taken notice. So he continues on, “Maybe you didn’t like the Christmas gift I got you? Is that it? What did I do? Please, Steve, please just—“

“I can’t!” Steve finally yells back, standing up ramrod straight, the fridge door quietly and gently closing behind him. He shifts on his feet, hands bunching at his sides once more. He shakes his head, the tears already prickling in his eyes. “You don’t want to know, okay? You’ll think it’s stupid or something and then I’ll feel worse and I—You can’t know.”

His eyes dart up to Eddie, When was I looking at the floor? And Eddie looks…Well, he looks damn unhappy about that answer. But also severely concerned. He chews at his lip, crossing his arms once more, popping his hip so that his body is leaning away from Steve. He sharply exhales. “If you cheated on me or something, you can just say that. And I’ll get out of your hair.”

“What?” Steve squeaks. “Why would you think that? I wouldn’t do that to somebody.”

“Then what’s wrong? That’s all I can possibly think of as to why you’re putting distance between us.”

He stiffens, swallowing. Sniffling. God, why is he about to cry? His breath stutters in his chest. Stomach churning and churning and flipping. “It’s because I—“ He hiccups a sigh. “It’s because I love you too much, okay?” He whispers. Steve can’t make his voice any louder than that. The shame at the admission coiling tight in his throat and chest. He crosses his own arms, fingers wrapping around his elbows, fingernails digging into his soft flesh. “Like so much, you’ll think I’m insane. And then you’ll get weirded out by me. And you’ll think I’m fucking with you or something and then you’ll just leave. Like everybody else has.”

Eddie softens. Arms dangling loose at his sides. He hesitantly gets closer to Steve. “Baby,” he’s softly cooing, “why would that make me not love you? All I want is to be loved by you.”

“I’m scared,” Steve confesses. “I’m scared you’ll hear me and you’ll see how much I love you and you’ll leave. Or you’ll…You’ll realize something that a lot of other people tend to realize—“ He takes a gasping breath, something salty landing on his tongue. Of course he’s crying. “You’ll just realize that I’m a bullshit person. That I’m too much and too intense and too enamored, or whatever. You’ll realize that I’m bullshit in the sense that I don’t know what to do in a crisis or when I need to make somebody happy. You’ll think I’m bullshitting you about every fucking thing. Because I—“ A sob leaves his chest. It’s got claws, it hurts on the exit.

Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie slowly raises his left palm and cups Steve’s right cheek. His other hand lands on Steve’s opposite bicep. He runs his hand up and down the arm in tender swipes. “Steve,” Eddie starts, his voice low and trapping—his words are almost congested. “Sweetheart, your feelings aren’t bullshit. You aren’t bullshit because you feel something. Especially something like love. You deserve to have that. And you deserve the possibility of reciprocating.”

“I love you so bad, Eddie,” Steve cries out. “It fucking terrifies me how much I do. And I—“ The sobs come easier now, rattling his whole body, crumpling him bit by bit. Eddie shuffles in and drags Steve to his chest. And over Eddie’s heart, Steve mutters, “I don’t know how to be normal.”

Eddie’s hand on his bicep moves to the back of Steve’s head. His other hand falling away to Steve’s shoulder. “I love you, too,” he murmurs. “It physically hurt to not have you near me. I thought that I fucked everything up, Stevie. I love you so much, it threatens to destroy me sometimes.”

Steve nuzzles in closer. Tentatively wrapping his arms around his middle. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Eddie whispers, “You don’t need to apologize. I understand, it’s alright.” He presses a chaste kiss to Steve’s head. His lips lingering. “Besides, I’m the most abnormal person fucking ever, sweetheart. Your love won’t chase me away. Never ever. You never have to be scared about loving me too much. I welcome it.”

“Okay,” Steve mutters, “I’m still sorry.”

Eddie sighs. “I know, love bug,” he whispers. “I know you are.” He moves his arm to wrap around Steve’s own torso, swiping his hand in one long, soothing stripe over his spine. Another kiss, this time to Steve’s temple. “Let’s order some pizza or something, alright? We’ll cuddle on the couch and calm down. I’m sorry for yelling at you. Sorry for assuming the worst. I just love you so much and I know you love me, too—I couldn’t come up with a single reason why you’d stop.”

“I don’t think I can stop, which is also scary. But—Like a good fear? It gives me adrenaline.”

Eddie’s chest vibrates with his laughter. Bright in the otherwise gloomy and dark place Steve’s found himself in. “Don’t you ever stop,” he demands. “I want your love all the time. I’ll tell you if something bugs me, alright? Don’t go assuming. Because I love you, Stevie. I love you so much.”

Steve pulls back, face pointed up at Eddie’s. He matches his soft smile. “I love you, too. Let’s get some pepperoni pizza, though. Because I am fucking hungry.” He squeezes his arms around Eddie. “Hungry for you, too.” And he saunters away.

In return, he hears Eddie shout after him, “You better make do on that! I missed you too much for you to tease me!”

Maybe he should learn to just trust his gut. To just admit what he’s feeling. Because it seems, if he’s honest about it the first time, good things happen in return.

💕—————💕 Gotta be honest, this isn't my best work. I've been feeling pretty mucky recently and nearly didn't have the energy to write. But I think this suffices.

#stranger things #steddie #fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #angst #hurt/comfort #arguing #apologzing #making up #steddielovemonth #day 18

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spacedace · 9 months

Text

Something that I keep thinking about that I've not seen be mentioned in the DP fandom is the fact that Dani/Elle had brothers before Danny.

Angst ahead (I'm in an angsty mood lol)

I don't know if I've just missed it or not, but I just keep thinking about how for a while, it was just Elle and the other clones. That with Vlad being Vlad they probably really only had each other. And Elle being stable while the others weren't implies that she was the youngest of them all.

Did the others look after her? Did they play with her and try and teach her ghost stuff even though they weren't very good at it? Did she curl up with the big Frankenstein Clone to sleep at night, did the Skeleton Clone start wearing the bed sheet originally because he was worried about scaring his little sister? Did the Gooey Clone that could change sized play hide and seek with her to keep her entertained?

There's a level of implication that she didn't know that the other Clones were actually gone gone after they fought Danny when he told her that he wouldn't fight her because when he did fight the clones they destabilized. And I can't help but think it's something that would haunt her, realizing that not only were her brothers were gone, but she helped destroy one of them.

I don't know I just feel like it's a piece of Elle's backstory that isn't brought up, both for family fluffy and angst purposes.

Gimme some fics of Elle and Danny talking about her brothers, their shared grief and regret over everything. Danny trying to help make it up to her or Elle admitting that as much as she loves Danny she still sometimes finds herself looking at him and knowing that he's the one that killed her brothers, even though he didn't mean to.

Give me Elle making graves for her brothers and mourning them with her new family, never forgetting them but slowly learning how to accept their deaths. Or of her going full Tim Drake and trying to clone them to get them back even though she knows it won't be the same (give me a DP x DC crossover with her & Tim feeding off each others grief spirals and helping each other in their unhealthy cloning coping methods or Elle stepping in to stop Tim because she's been there and done that and knows it doesn't do anything but prolong the pain).

Or something happy! Elle goes off and explores the multiverse and discovers worlds were her brothers lived! Or where she was the one that didn't make it in their world but they did and she's able to stabilize them and bring them home! Or an AU where the clones live and run off with Elle to see the world and she comes back to Amity Park sooner because while she's getting weaker her brothers are fully on the verge of destabilizing and she needs Danny's help to save them!

I just have a lot of thoughts on the untapped potential of the other clones and Elle's relationships to them.

#danny phantom #dpxdc #kinda since tim is mentioned but like mostly it's just focused on Danny Phantom #dani phantom #danielle phantom #elle phantom #danny's clones #the danny clones #danny fenton #i have so many thoughts and feelings on this yall have no idea #did they have names too?#or just Elle because she was the closest to perfected that Vlad got to #angst #this is what happens when I don't get enough sleep I fixate on the saddest implications of character's backstories

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brainrotcharacters · 1 year

Text

Legacy

I have to do everything myself. /nm

ship: Captain Price x filo!141!reader

summary: running away from your birth family and then using a new name to enlist in the military came back to haunt you... of course it does.

a/n: I awakened my daddy issues and create a little something for the platonic dad Price lovers of the fandom.

tags: sfw. angst comfort. platonic dad Price. reader is a member of 141. post-mw2 (2022). Price calls reader “kid” but they are an adult (Price is just a dad). John Price being a good dad because look at him he’s literally dad shaped, Filipino words, Price speaking Filipino

You knew this would happen, but you still hated that you had been correct.

The paper that your family used to write you their last letter rustled in your trembling hand. They discovered that you enlisted in the military, after you ran away from them. You were a skilled enough schemer to get on top of your government documents to change your name, but in the middle of Shepherds' and Graves' betrayal, they made sure your family found you. Now they were both dead, and they were still fucking up your life in particular.

Wag ka nang bumalik. it said at the bottom, in your father's heavy penmanship. You wouldn't be surprised if he broke the pen he used.

Cheering and laughter resounded from outside the hangar. Oh, what good would come out of telling the boys? They were tired from that goose chase with Shepherd, and Soap was with Rudy when they made sure Graves was KIA. What they deserved was a full 8 hours of sleep, a full meal, and maybe a good lay unless you flirted your way through and stole their girl for yourself.

"Hey." Captain Price jogged up to you. "Where's all that victory yellin' a while ago, huh? The noise doesn't feel complete without you."

You drew your lips into a line, angling the paper away from his line of sight. "Mhm."

Price narrowed his eyes. The softness in his voice was only exhaustion, you were sure. "Everything all right back home?"

That word made you laugh. Home. Spending each day of each week under a roof with children who don't have sympathy (or empathy for that matter) because their parents never do. There were adults who should've acted more like Laswell when Gaz asked her get-to-know questions over the stupid comms. You suffered so many 'family gatherings' where your cousins and yourself were told to be more brotherly or sisterly, but when Soap was bleeding out because of Graves, you kept him lucid while you maintained his wound. You went back-and-forth with Ghost and his jokes. You jumped over 4x4s with Gaz and made it a competition just because. Rudy bantering with you in Spanish felt sweeter because the others were learning the language at the sidelines. Alejandro was happy to see you too, when you all came to save him from custody. The fact is, you gained two new brothers living in Mexico, and the rest are lumbering from the plane to the barracks to get some damn rest.

And Price. To answer his question, you offered the paper to him.

He gave it a simple glance, then shifted his attention back up at your face. "You sure, kid?"

You nod. "I trust you."

He slowly took the letter from your hands, and muttered some words that caught his eye. You wandered several steps away, hands on your hips and thoughts zooming through your mind. The exhaustion hasn't quite settled into your bones yet... or maybe it already has.

"What does 'wag ka nang bumalik' mean?" Price's eyebrows were furrowed. He was confused but open-minded in the way that the father who wrote that letter could never be. Even for you.

You clench your jaw. "Don't come back."

Price blinked, and the weariness that he otherwise already showed a while ago disappeared from his eyes. His shoulders squared, he was alert again. He was back on mission mode because of you.

"Shepherd's and Graves's last hurrah, or whatever." You take the paper back, breathing in. "I always wondered what being rejected actually feels like. Normally, I'm already gone before it happens."

"Oi..."

You shake your head, lifting a finger at your captain. He shouldn't sound so fatherly at this moment. Not right now. "I don't care. Really! I don't care. If they don't want to take me back, I'm not going back. It's so much effort to pack my things, and book a flight, and drive there if I'm going to get kicked out before I even see the welcome mat behind the door."

Price was looking at you with that warm, understanding, patient look on his face. You don't fucking deserve that! "Listen, if you're mad, then be mad. You're allowed."

You threw your hands up, defeated. "You can tell, can't you, Captain? Because it's natural for you to pay attention to everyone under your authority. I believe that you'd protect me because you follow through all the damn time. You're very cool when you do that, by the way."

"Thanks." he smiled fondly.

"And you know what? When they put me in charge of a unit, the best thing I can hear from those people is how much I act like you. They like how organized my operations are, how I praise their skills in the field, how I check up on them. I never learned any of that from him!" you lifted the paper, physically unable to say the name of your biological father. "Captain, it is so easy not to give a shit about any of these people. But I know I'm your legacy, and I know how to do things right. It feels good to be in a team."

Price stepped closer. Within reach, if you were all right with that sort of thing now. While he does want to hold you, his judgment call inclines more to prioritizing what you need. "Yeah, I'm really proud of you."

The first tears escaped your eyes, and you turned your head away smiling. Your voice broke. "That's not fair. You know I turn into a baby when you say that."

"Aren't you our baby?" Price frowned. Playful. "Ghost would never say it, but we all know you have scary older brother privileges. You're absolutely infuriating when you're with Soap, and Gaz always talks about how you dethroned him. See? You're our bunso." (youngest)

You studied his face for signs of lies and deceit that you knew you'd never see. He continued, approaching with his hands open and pacifistic. "You let me read the letter, so I have some idea about what's going on here. It's not your fault."

"Shut the fuck up." you laugh through your tears.

"It’s not your fault. I'm proud of you for having the strength to leave, and the wits to make sure they don't follow you here... well, until Shepherd and Graves." he sighed, cradling your face between his palms. Never mind the dust and dirt on his gloves. It was all over the both of you. "But we're 141. On this little slice of the world, we have room for kids like you."

He pecked your forehead and then gently wrapped his arms around you. You gladly melted into his embrace, hugging him back as tightly and lovingly as you could. "Understood, anak?" (kid, child)

"Opo, papa." (Yes, dad.)

#captain price #cod mw2 #call of duty mw2 #captain price being a dad #captain price platonic #john price platonic #cod mw2 platonic #cod x reader #cod x reader familial #cod x reader platonic #captain price x reader #john price x reader

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farfromstrange · 1 year

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Please, Be Okay | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (gender neutral)

Summary: When Matt doesn't text or answer your calls during a night out, you can't help but suspect the worst.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death and blood, hurt/comfort, not proof-read

Word Count: 2.3k

A/n: So it's like 2am over here and I was trying to sleep, sat up straight in bed, and started to write this in like an hour. I'm not sure what this is, but I actually kind of like it now.

“Please, be okay.”

It’s nights like this that you were afraid of. The prepaid flip phone you carry is silent, not because you turned off the sound but because no messages are coming in. No calls, no texts, and therefore no signs of life from the only number that is saved on the phone.

You know you worry too much most of the time, and usually, he either forgets to text or he’s too busy to let you know he’s okay, but there is one thing you can always count on: Matt Murdock answers when you text him because leaving you worried in the comfort of your shared apartment, clinging to the hope he didn’t get fatally injured during his nightly patrols, would be an awful thing to do to a loved one. You need to know he’s okay. You need to know he’s alive. Your worry eats him alive, so no matter what, he finds the time to text back, even if it’s just a stupid period. He always texts back.

Tonight, you have texted him fifty-seven times in an hour. He always texts back, but tonight, he hasn’t. And it’s not his usual five-minute delay.

You’ve been stuck whispering, “Please, be okay,” into the void of darkness, your phone, and God himself for hours and there has not yet been a sign that he is, in fact, okay. And it’s not just something that irks or frustrates you, it causes the pure essence of panic to course through your veins, grab your throat and keep you in a chokehold as you fall victim to the cruel spiral of your never-ending morbid thoughts.

He hasn’t texted back or answered your calls in an hour and you’re starting to worry that this might be it. He might be lying in a dumpster again, barely hanging on, and this time Claire won’t be around. Or he is in the middle of a heated battle with his enemies and someone has managed to breach his suit and soon enough, he will be choking on his blood in a pool of red liquid without anyone around but him and his never-ending self-blame. He will take that to the grave, you know it.

Your mind reels with the different possibilities, and none of them are pretty. He doesn’t simply forget to answer, that’s not like him, and he hasn’t been silent for longer than twenty minutes after being begged for a sign of life. You’re sure he hasn’t even read your messages, and at this point, you’re hyperventilating and you’re crying as you’re pacing the floorboards because damn you, Matt Murdock, you’ve had a deal. At this point, you’re sure he’s dead in a ditch somewhere and your last conversation will have been a phone call because you just had to do overtime at work. Your last conversation would have been about dinner plans you never got to fulfill. Your last conversation would have ended without an ‘I love you’ and that’s what breaks you; you love him more than anything and seeing him hurt always manages to hurt you even more, so thinking about him being dead or dying somewhere, without you, without support and without hope, it breaks the heart that loves him more than you love your own life.

You call Foggy, you call Claire, you even call any other hospital in New York. They must think you’re crazy by now, but the nagging feeling that something is terribly wrong eats away at your heart and takes your breath away.

In front of your inner eyes, you can see his warm smile. You can feel his lips on your skin, his lingering kisses, and hushed confessions of how much he loves and adores you. You can hear his laugh and his corny jokes. But then you look further and you can see his bloody and bruised body lying there. You can see his scars, fresh wounds adorning his chest, his suit torn apart, and all of his shields gone. His chest heaves with his last few breaths and as he dies, he whispers your name. He calls out for you the way you always would when you’ve had a bad day – and you know it doesn’t compare, but you have never left each other alone when the other was struggling. You truly believed you would have more of these moments with him, you would get married and eventually start a family because you both said that it would heal the scars from your past. You wanted to move on and start a new and better life together, showing each other the love you lacked all this time from the people who were around you. But he is probably dead and there is no future for you if the man you love is dead.

You can’t imagine burying him. It hurts too much. Having to explain to Father Lantom what happened, having to stand at the altar and give a eulogy and say goodbye to him as he’s lying in an open casket, waiting to be laid to rest – these thoughts are so present, you can’t see anything but the truth in them.

You’ve always feared this moment and now it’s here, and you don’t know how to act. You don’t know what to do. The uncertainty turns into assumptions and the assumptions turn into your worst enemy.

He’s prepared you for this, but you refused to listen before.

What kind of casket would Matt Murdock want, anyway?

You choke on your own tears as you sink to your knees in front of the couch. You gave up on praying. God won’t hear you anyway. Your body is shaking and you’re not quite sure where to go with yourself, but you don’t exactly have anywhere to go either.

You’re so focused on the only thing you can think of that you don’t hear the rooftop access creaking open or the heavy footsteps descending the stairs.

“Sweetheart?” he sounds hoarse as he speaks into the dead of the night.

For a second, you think it’s a ghost, but then your instincts kick in and you look up, your cheeks stained with tears.

“Oh, my God!” you say.

Matt stands in the blue lighting of the billboard outside. His mask is on the floor, and his gloves have been discarded. He looks fine. He looks alive.

You get off your knees and walk up to him, your steps determined. You yearn for him. Your broken heart starts mending, but the pain is still there, and the relief only makes you cry harder.

“You didn’t call,” your voice is barely above a whisper, “and I thought you died.”

His eyes soften. “My battery died,” he says.

My battery died. You are such an idiot, you tell yourself. It’s one of the few things you haven’t even considered, and it’s the most logical. The stupid battery died because phone batteries die sometimes, and he doesn’t exactly have any other means of getting in contact when he is out there, and you have never felt more stupid for reacting the way you did. But also, the fact that there could have been some truth to your fears reminds you that your anxiety is never entirely without reason, especially not with him. Not with Matt Murdock, not with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen as the man you fell in love with; with him, anxiety about his well-being is never entirely unreasonable. For a second though, you want nothing more than to slap yourself.

Your breath shudders as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. “I thought I lost you.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” He instantly hugs you close to him. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking and I didn’t notice until now. I’m okay, baby. I’m here. I came back.”

“You’re here.” You lean back to check his face and body for injuries, but he’s okay. You prayed and he is okay, even though you still can barely believe your own eyes. “God… don’t ever do this to me again. I hate you so much.” Your fist collided with his shoulder and his face says as much as ‘I deserved that’.

There are not many more places you can or want to hit him before the dam you’ve put up to hold back your tears after he stepped in breaks once again.

He holds you as you cry. Feeling him close to you alive and breathing is a small victory, but it’s enough for now. It’s enough to give you a moment of relief, being in the arms of the man you love and being safe with him as he is safe with you.

Still, it could have gone differently and tonight could have been the night he wouldn’t have come home to you because even though phones die, so do humans and with Matt, there is a very fine line.

His hands find your face. Slowly, he leans forward to connect your lips. The kiss is gentle yet firm, a reminder from him that he’s okay. He places your hand on his chest as he does so, making you feel his rhythmic heartbeat through the fabric of his suit. You can feel his chest rise and fall beneath your shaky fingers.

You whimper. “You’re really okay,” you say.

“I’m okay,” he says with a smile. “Nothing happened to me.”

“But you didn’t answer and I… you always answer. You always fucking answer, Matt, but you didn’t tonight. For hours, and I… God, you always answer and you didn’t. I was so scared.”

His face contorts. He can feel the pain in your voice, the vibrations hurting his ears and shaking him to his core. He figured before that his nightly rounds around Hell’s Kitchen keep you awake and worried, but he has never seen you this distraught before.

Gently, he pulls you close again. “I’m sorry,” is all he can really say.

He knows your fear of him dying is not so far-fetched, and if his phone hadn’t died, the reason for his disappearance could have been more serious. He knows it, and it breaks his heart to hear your own breaking.

You nuzzle your face into his neck, close to his pulse point. You feel him swallow, counting every heartbeat with precision just like he would yours. “Don’t ever die on me,” he hears you say against his hot skin, and he holds you impossibly closer.

“Never,” Matt promises. He’s not sure why he makes a promise he doesn’t know if he can even keep it, but there is nothing he wants more than to be by your side for the rest of his life, and he doesn’t want to sacrifice what you have for anything, not even the chase.

So he makes a promise to you and himself, “From now on, I won’t leave the house without explicitly checking if my phone is charged, and I’ll make sure to check in every hour. I won’t ever leave you for so long again, and I won’t die on you. I love you,” he says. “I love you more than anything else in this world and I want to make this work. I can’t stand watching you break your heart and head over me and that needs to stop, so I promise I’m going to do everything in my power to make this easier, and I’m going to put in the most effort I humanly can.”

His eyes are stern when he looks just a little past yours, but he’s holding your face so tightly and close to his own, you can smell his breath, and his heartbeat under your fingers tells you he’s telling the truth.

Your tears subside and you can muster a small smile that he would have given millions to see, just this once, just to see the relief and the love in your beautiful eyes. “I love you,” he repeats.

You don’t hesitate to kiss him, firmer than the one he gave you before. “And I love you,” you say.

“Is that… Do you think we can make this work? That I can make this work? You deserve so much better and I intend to give that to you. Hurting you is the last thing I could possibly want and I hate myself so much that I did.”

“It’s okay, I know.” Your smile turns into a knowing breath of fresh air. “It’s not your fault.”

He hesitates before nodding, registering your words and allowing them to manifest. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I trust you, Matthew. I trust you with my body, soul, and my life, so there is nothing I’d consider impossible for you,” you say. “Just… just make sure you keep your promise and stay alive for me, okay? I need you to promise me.”

Your pleading time causes his eyes to soften even more so now. “I promise,” he says although he has many times before, but it soothes your conscience and he’s happiest when you’re happy.

He promises to give you what you deserve, and you won’t ever have to cry because of him again. It’s something he holds dear to him and will do so until the day he dies, which he will make sure isn’t soon.

As you lie in bed, the clock striking four am, you curl into him and you whisper the three words that have become your mantra, “I love you.”

He kisses the crown of your head, tired but happy to be in your arms again. “I love you too, Angel,” he says.

His heartbeat remains steady beneath your ear and you know, that man loves you as much as he says he does if not more, and it allows you to relish in the feeling of having him alive and well in bed with you again so you can finally close your eyes and get some much-needed rest.

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destieltropecollection · 1 year

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DESTIEL TROPE COLLECTION 2023 | DAY 3 | S15 Fix Its

i wanna be your lover fighter | @angelwiththeblue-box

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,056 Main Tags/Warnings: Fix-It, Major Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, AU, Happy Ending, Summary: what if dean is the one who confesses first?

There's Something About Jenny | @whichstiel

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,965 Main Tags/Warnings: Jenny the vampire, Time travel Summary: A fix-it for the finale.

Heavenly | @sunshine-zenith

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2,864 Main Tags/Warnings: Past Major Character Death/Set In Heaven, Post s15ep20, happy ending, humor, minor angst, Cas has some self worth issues Summary: Cas has been avoiding Dean in heaven, despite Dean's best efforts to find some information on the guy. The others made a point to bash over his head how Dean and Castiel had apparently been in love and could have been together for over a decade if he had just gotten his head out of his ass sooner (again, super unfair. It takes two to make up destiel, and it's not like Cas had been rushing to declare his undying love until just before he died for the last time. Unless you count that other time in the barn where he thought he was dying, but the angel totally chickened out when he backtracked with his “I love you all.” This wasn’t all on Dean, and he was taking that fact to the- well. Not grave. They’re all a little past that at that point). Luckily, eventually, Cas comes to him.

Sit in the Presence of the Sun | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Mature Word Count: 3,125 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Season/Series 15, Angst, Suicide Attempt, Major Character Undeath, Sad Dean Winchester, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Misunderstandings, Winged Castiel (Supernatural), Selectively Mute Dean Winchester, Angel Castiel Summary: “Why wouldn’t Dean want to see you?” “When I…” Castiel very deliberately continues watching the sun instead of Sam. “I’m not comfortable discussing this with you. I’m sorry.” “Okay…?” “It’s fine. Jack has already informed me that Dean doesn’t want any of us to bother him.” Now Sam groans. “Really? No, Cas! Dean doesn’t wanna see me or Jack! I’m pretty sure he just didn’t believe Jack when we tried telling him you’re back, and he fucking - escaped from the hospital when I wasn’t there and took off for Jody’s! He never said he doesn’t want to see you!” Castiel shakes his head. “That doesn’t matter. I… when I protected him in the dungeon, there’s no way around the fact that my actions were extremely upsetting for him. He doesn’t want to see me.”

There'll be peace when you are done - are you done? | @brainfuzz

Rating: General Word Count: 3,216 Main Tags/Warnings: Fix-it fic, no warnings apply Summary: Canon compliant right to the shitty end, and then goes and explains all the gaps and why that's not the end.

These Words Are All We Have (We’ll Be Talking) | @sunshine-zenith

Rating: Mature Word Count: 3,625 Main Tags/Warnings: Injury, Blood, Hurt Cas, Crying Cas and Dean, Dean has Self Worth Issues, Human Cas (S15 fix it), Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Bittersweet Ending Summary: When the Empty comes to collect Cas, Dean doesn't let it take him. The aftermath of this leaves Cas without his Grace and with a bleeding cut across his throat, and Dean questioning his worthiness of Cas's love.

this is the only thing i’ve ever had any faith in | @watchinghimrakeleaves

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 3,760 Main Tags/Warnings: season 15 fix it, post canon, human cas, retired hunter dean winchester Summary: The world is safe, Dean and Cas own a bar on the beach, and Dean is ready to ask Cas for something he could have never imagined he was allowed to have.

Devotional | @whichstiel

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,034 Main Tags/Warnings: The Empty, Resurrection Summary: A devotional is a little meditative prayer centered around a story. We start with THE WORD, follow up with a story, and walk away with a little revelation to ponder. I give you Castiel’s devotionals.

Signal | @diminuel

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 7,176 Main Tags/Warnings: S15 Fix-It, Interdimensional phone calls, Resurrected Castiel (Cas is still an angel), Crack Treated Seriously, Happy Ending, Fluff, Requited Love Summary: When the Empty grabbed Castiel he was prepared for this to be the end of him. There would be no more resurrections, no more loopholes, nothing but eternal sleep. But then his phone rings, piercing through the oblivion and Cas is wide awake. Turns out he’s got cell service in the Empty.

it's not a miracle you need | @brillemos

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 7,711 Main Tags/Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Post-Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Mutual Pining, Love Confessions, First Kiss Summary: Jack refuses to help save Cas from the Empty. Dean has no clue how to do it and enlists Sam and Eileen's help. It turns out the answer was within Cas all along, but getting there isn't easy.

how fast the night changes (WIP) | @closetoyou1970

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7,915 Main Tags/Warnings: Season 15 Fix-It, Dean Rescues Cas From The Empty, New Relationship, Road Trip, Retirement, Grieving and Healing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angel Cas Endgame Summary: Cas is back from the Empty, but Dean is still too traumatized by watching him die to set foot back in the bunker. With no apocalypse on the horizon and with a deathbed love confession still hanging heavy in the air between them, Dean suggests his go-to idea: that the pair of them take off together and drive around the backroads of flyover country until they figure it out. (Post-series road trip fic.)

if you ran away, just come home | @heller-castiel

Rating: No Rating Word Count: 9,172 Main Tags/Warnings: Grief/Mourning, Selectively Mute Dean Winchester, Woman in White Dean Winchester, Canonical Character Death, Fix-it, Angst With a Happy Ending, Human Castiel Summary: Dean wandered, after. The night that Chuck died, subsumed into Amara, he had silently climbed into his car in the dead of night, walking past Jack's room, past Sam's room. In his room, Sam laid in his bed with Eileen, and felt the air displace itself around where Dean slipped past in the hallway, instincts attuning him to movement just as they made Dean move soundlessly, without a thought to it. but Dean didn’t think of that. Dean only thought of moving, getting out, going - Going to something the bunker couldn’t be, anymore. Something he couldn’t ever go to. But he had to go.

Know And Understand | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 10,387 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Episode AU: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Time Travel, Episode: s04e02 Are You There God? It's Me Dean Winchester, Grief/Mourning, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Angel Castiel Summary: The Cas that reappears in the bunker after Chuck is defeated isn't their Cas. After supposedly being taken by the Shadow, Castiel has no idea why he immediately crash-lands in Bobby Singer's wrecking yard just days after Dean was raised from Hell. Jack is just trying to fix everything and surprisingly, Gabriel turns out to be really good at damage control. In both times, Sam has no idea what the hell's going on anymore and at this point he's almost too scared to ask.

I would do anything for love... but I won't do that | @startswitheff

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 11,001 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Canon Fix-It, Dean Winchester Uses Actual Words, Eventual Smut, Human!Castiel, Top!Castiel, Bottom!Dean Winchester Summary: When Dean pulls Castiel from the Empty, he knows he wants to be by his side for the rest of his life. But is he ready for everything that entails? Otherwise known as the “and that’s how…” fic.

Summer Blues | @deanabean

Rating: Mature Word Count: 11,193 Main Tags/Warnings: Retrospective, Dean Winchester-centric, POV Dean Winchester, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Selectively Mute Dean Winchester, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Competent Dean Winchester, yCastiel and Dean Winchester are Jack Kline's Parents, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Canon Fix-It, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester Summary: As Dean sits here alone in the dark of this summer's night, going through some sort of an introspection journey deep down memory lane _ as he’s finding himself doing more and more for a while now _ as he tries his hardest to make sense of things. Of memories. Yes, Dean thinks; hindsight is like looking through a sharp, new set of eyes. Sometimes disorienting, yet the closest thing to crystal clear.

Status quo ante bellum | @angelinthefire

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 11,201 Main Tags/Warnings: human!Castiel, light angst, canon-typical alcohol consumption Summary: Cas is back from the Empty, human, and convinced that his relationship with Dean is unsalvagable. Can Dean get his shit together in time to prove otherwise?

Dean daily | @fellshish

Rating: Mature Word Count: 11,840 Main Tags/Warnings: Epistolatory, denial, social media, fix-it Summary: Cas has been rescued from the Empty. Dean suffers from extreme denial about being in love with him. Epistolary / social media fic with Dean POV snippets for every day.

The Council Of Charlie Bradbury | @pointyearedelvishprincling

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 13,157 Main Tags/Warnings: post 15x18, angel!cas, selective mutism, angst with a happy ending, pov Charlie Bradbury, pov dean winchester, pov castiel, emotional hurt/comfort, LOTR references Summary: It's been a few weeks since Cas got out of the Empty, and Dean can't accept that there's finally peace in the world. Watching the camera footage of the dungeon scene on repeat probably isn't helping. Cas is content to give Dean space to heal, even if the loneliness at the end of the journey is settling in. On the request of Sam, not that she needed an excuse, Charlie spends the night in the Bunker trying to figure out what's going on with these idiots, and getting more answers than she bargained for. With the help of Stevie, she comes up with a plan that might finally bring Dean and Cas together.

something you love (something you lose) | @nessarose-thropp

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 15,308 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Episode: s14e20 Moriah, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Temporary Character Death, Rough Sex, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Suicidal Ideation, Grief/Mourning, POV Castiel (Supernatural), Hopeful Ending, Angel Castiel Summary: “Story's over,” Chuck says, “Welcome to The End.” And with that everything goes dark and cold. The darkness and rot of souls and bodies surrounds them. He doesn’t dare touch Jack again, just stares at his lifeless body lit only by unnatural moonlight. He’s vaguely aware of the threat slowly encircling them, but none of it matters. Nothing matters anymore. Somewhere, something deep inside of him-not his earthly body but his true angel self-awakens. It’s a type of power and heat he hasn’t felt in years. It’s uncontrollable and unforgiving. Light and righteousness and fury coalescing into something terrifying. Castiel lets out a scream, an anguished cry from his human mouth and a piercing angelic shriek, and with it releases whatever it was that had been growing within him. When he feels it leave, his consciousness finally returns to the present, to the Earth and to his vessel and to Sam and Dean and to Jack and it’s light out again. The sun is shining just as it was minutes ago, and there is no sign of any dark forces around them. No ghosts, no zombies, no demons, just two men, an angel, and the body of a dead Nephilim. - Jack is gone, Chuck is in the wind, and Cas must find a way to cope.

The Little Issue with the Mission to Perdition | @amaranthhiding

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 16,460 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Universe, Post-Ep 15x19, Jack & Amara family bonding, Jack and Amara Try Fixing Things Together but Make Everything Worse, Team Free Will 3.0, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Castiel/Dean First Kiss, POV Alternating (Jack, Amara, Dean, Sam, Castiel) Summary: Chuck is defeated and his power now belongs to Jack and Amara. They struggle with adjusting to their newly-shared existence, and with big questions such as, how can (almost) all-powerful beings avoid becoming what Chuck was? What even is all that power good for when it doesn't allow Jack to save someone from the Empty who absolutely deserves being saved? Who thought it was a good idea to hand all that power to two beings who, together, have spent less years on Earth than the average human child? ...And why is there suddenly black goo everywhere?

In the Rolling Up of Sleeves | @the-elf-barbarian

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 20,344 Main Tags/Warnings: S15 fix it Cas is human/in heaven, Dean and Cas are dead/in heaven, Canon typical Alcohol Abuse, Canon typical reference to Child Abuse, Domestic Fic, Magical Realistic Heaven, Failure to communicate, The Unrelenting Search for Happiness, Hurt/Comfort but like... for Us Summary: When Cas arrives in heaven, sometime after sacrificing himself to the Empty - he and Jack realize just how wrong Chuck got it when he built heaven. And, just how much work they have in store to prepare heaven for the arrival of those they love. Meanwhile, in the wake of Chuck’s defeat, Dean finds a way to forge a life with this new, more free, world while grappling with the knowledge of Cas’s true feelings. When they finally meet in heaven, will they finally get the afterlife they deserve - learning and building, to make the Heaven they have spent so long fighting for - or will Cas’s fears about how he escaped from The Empty endanger it all? What was that, wayward sons, about there being peace when you were done?

to the wonder of all things | @hauntedpearl

Rating: General Word Count: 21,164 Main Tags/Warnings: Fix-It, Empty rescue, Hell rescue, Flashbacks, Angel!Cas, Love Confessions, First Kiss Summary: The Empty puts Castiel to sleep. The sound of prayer wakes him up. He follows this call echoing through the void and relives pieces of his life as he journeys towards the voice — towards freedom. Towards Dean.

One Week Later | @squirrelofcelestialintent

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 23,208 Main Tags/Warnings: Panic attacks, alcohol as a coping mechanism, bisexual dean, internalized homophobia, switching, gentle dom cas, identity crisis, graceless/human Castiel, discussions of sex work Summary: “Touch-starved”. It’s one of those terms (along with “alcoholic” and “abused child”) that Dean has worked very hard to keep on the other side of the big fat concrete wall in his brain. The one that, until now, only weakens when he’s truly, deeply shit-faced. But Cas has made a career out of breaking through Dean’s walls, it only makes sense that he’d tear this one down too, if he just died enough times. Ripped Dean’s heart out just enough so that the foundations of family and duty and sacrifice can crumble and leave Dean even more of a desperate, black hole of need than he was before. Chuck is dead, and Cas… Cas is back. And Dean is supposed to be happy. It’s time to decide what he wants to do with the rest of his life. But how can he do that, when every time he’s not physically touching Cas he starts to have a panic attack that none of this is real, and it’s all just another one of Chuck’s games? Who knows. So, he lets himself touch Cas. Constantly. It’s that or face a complete, Chernobyl-scale meltdown. At least Cas doesn’t seem to mind.

there's no cell service in the afterlife | @payphoneangel

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 27,404 Main Tags/Warnings: finale fix-it, Angst with a Happy Ending, Alcoholism, Family Dynamics, Jack Kline is Not God, Suicidal Thoughts, Empty deal, Blood and Injury, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Masturbation Summary: Castiel is resurrected from The Empty. While Dean is recovering from casting the spell that brought him back, Cas checks his voicemail. Turns out, they both just might be able to say what it is they want.

Inherit the Earth | @malicmalic

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 29,167 Main Tags/Warnings: S15 fix it, Castiel Lives, First kiss, MPreg, TopCas/Bottom Dean, comfort, Jack is God, Light angst, Fluff, Happy ending. Summary: Prompt: Cas and Dean deal with a surprise pregnancy. Or the one where the world didn't end, Jack defeated Chuck and Dean and Cas got their happily ever after.

The Blood Curse | @labgeek2002

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 32,690 Main Tags/Warnings: Angel Cas, post season 15 fix-it, internalized homophobia, time travel Summary: Castiel has been rescued from the Empty, but the spell used to retrieve him tears a hole in the dimensional wall that acts as barrier protecting Earth from the pull of everlasting darkness. As the Empty feeds off of Castiel's grace to sustain itself, driving him closer to death with every passing minute, Dean becomes desperate to save him. The only way to repair the damage is for Dean, Sam, and Cas to travel back in time to obtain a witch's stone that's in the possession of John Winchester, circa 2002. A twenty-three year old Dean Winchester will serve as their guide as they navigate the tumultuous father-son relationship that transcends time itself before the Empty draws its final curtain.

Buffer Time | @sunshine-zenith

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 42,728 Main Tags/Warnings: Referenced to past character death (minor and major), slight psychological horror, sexual humor, mental health issues, Fusion/AU Hopping, everyone needs hugs, s15 fix it, Angel Cas, Happy Ending Summary: When Dean wakes up in his town's jailcell with a disoriented Cas, he happily roles with it. Sure, he knows he'll be the laughing stock of the town for a few days -- what deputy locks himself in his own jailhouse? -- but as long as Cas is there, things are fine. Until he realizes his memory is unusually fuzzy. Until Cas starts acting strange and morose. Until he starts having brief flashes of Cas being taken from him by an inky black entity. Until Cas starts talking about plot holes and tropes. Until he wakes up by a fire in the woods, on a quests to fight a dragon --no wait, in an ambulance, late for his shift as a surgeon-- no wait- Dean's just trying to figure out why he and Cas keep waking up in different genres and why Cas seems so distant, while Sam works with Eileen, Gabriel, and a few others to do the same on the other side of a laptop. (WandaVision inspired finale fix-it)

Creatures of Light | @aishitara

Rating: Mature Word Count: 44,075 Main Tags/Warnings: Angel!Cas, temporary MCD, temporary canonical MCD, canon-typical depictions of violence, Castiel and Dean Winchester have a profound bond, angst with a happy ending, creature!Cas, trueform!Cas, surrealism, non-linear storytelling, love confessions, heavy reliance on scenes from potentially triggering episodes of season 15. Summary: Dean is in Heaven. He’s got everything he could ever want at his fingertips, a literal eternity of peace laid before him for the having, but he can’t help thinking — how can it really be his Heaven if Cas isn’t there? Then one day, Dean goes for a drive. And at the end of it he finds something he truly did not expect. Another chance, maybe, to find Cas and confront him about his parting words to Dean. To figure out what it is he wants and to take it, for once, without guilt or shame. Another chance to live free.

And Neither Do You | @withclawsandsympathy

Rating: Mature Word Count: 45,309 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, POV Dean, bi Dean, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dean Winchester is Loved, Body Horror, Horror, Character Death Fix, Fox-It, Quote: Family Don’t End With Blood (Supernatural), Angel!Cas, Finale Rewrite Summary: “Come, now,” he heard Cas rasp. It wasn’t coming from the phone anymore, but from right outside the door. Dean lowered the phone and took a hesitant step forward, his bare foot sinking into the damp, rotting carpet. “Cas, what’s wrong? I don’t … You’re not making any sense.” “I have something for you,” Cas said, and this time it came as a whisper in a language Dean didn’t know, yet somehow understood. Dean froze in his tracks, his hand hovering just over the doorknob. He wanted so desperately for it to be Cas on the other side of this door, but he knew deep down that something was horribly, horrifically wrong. The rise of a new, hands-off God has unintended consequences, and the promise of free will reaches further than anyone intended. In the absence of the one who'd locked them away, and beneath the cracked and abused surface of the Midwest, an Old God stirs. Here, death is not the peace you're looking for, and there's one person left to save. Or: family don't end in blood, and neither does Dean Winchester.

Finally (WIP) | @nanianela

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 70,698 Main Tags/Warnings: Season/Series 15, Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy, Canon Compliant, Fix-It, Soul Bonds, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Post-Finale, Engaged Castiel/Dean Winchester, Magical Pregnancy Summary: Castiel manages to escape the Empty, but on borrowed time. Before he hands over his grace, he accidentally forges an angelic bond to Dean, his new life mate, and grace tainted with humanity has no place in the angel afterlife. The bond forces Dean and Cas to navigate new waters, as they can now see into each other’s minds and feel what the other feels. Grace sex between Dean’s soul and Cas’s grace becomes a new normal in the couple’s lives, until it causes something they never thought possible...

Carve a Palace From Within | @norahastuff

Rating: Mature Word Count: 75,930 Main Tags/Warnings: Background Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, mention of canon Cas/Djinn queen, 15x20 doesn't exist (except to dunk on), Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Introspection for everybody, The Power Of Love, Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx Mixtape, Billie is not a villain (this one's important to me), I will drag these idiots to the beach if it kills me, Cas is something between angel and human Summary: The world is saved, Chuck has been defeated, and with the help of Amara and Jack, they managed to rescue Cas from the Empty. It's over. It's all over. So, what now? Sam wants to continue on as a Man of Letters and help other hunters and Dean and Cas want to open up a Roadhouse-style bar, but old habits die hard, and it’s surprisingly easy to fall back into their established routine of monsters and hunting - that is until they run into trouble on a case and have to take a step back and evaluate what’s truly important. Just when it seems like things are finally falling into place, an old friend returns and they discover there's still one of Chuck’s messes they need to clean up. The cosmic forces at the top may have a plan to fix it, but it’s Dean who will have to play the pivotal role. In order to do so, he’ll have to confront his past, face up to who he really is and acknowledge just how far he's willing to go to get the job done. One thing’s for sure, though: this is their story and he refuses to let it end as a tragedy. They deserve better. They’ve earned the chance to be free.

Forget your perfect offering | @angelinthefire

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 81,785 Main Tags/Warnings: fix-it, angel!cas, top castiel/bottom dean winchester, angelic grace sex, minor homophobia, angel family, dadstiel, canon-typical alcohol use, panic attack, happy ending Summary: Cas was resurrected. Dean told Cas that he loves him, that he can have everything he wanted, but Cas has to stay with him. Cas promised that he would. The thing is, he didn’t realize how literal Dean was being. Now, Cas works on rebuilding Heaven with the angels, while he builds a new life with Dean. Neither of those things are as easy as Cas would have liked.

There Are Roads Left in Both of Our Shoes | @hawkland

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 117,878 Main Tags/Warnings: human!Cas, series fixit, road trip, nightmares, emotional hurt/comfort, switching Dean/Cas, soul bonds Summary: What happens when Cas wakes up in the Empty a second time, and rescues his own damn self? At first, it seems like the happy ending Dean thought he’d lost his chance to ever know. But as the two set out on a celebratory road trip and begin enjoying their new life together, there’s a darkness clinging to Cas that refuses to completely let go. They may need to make an altogether different kind of journey in order to put the past fully behind them. And meanwhile, where is Jack, anyway?

Beyond This Illusion | @skybird87

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 161,339 Main Tags/Warnings: Post Finale, Human Cas, Internalized Homophobia, Coming Out, Homophobic Language, Top Dean, Bottom Cas, Panic Attacks, Team as Family, Slow Burn Summary: “Are you serious, Dean? Your djinn-dream started with you dying?” Sam asks incredulously from the passenger. “Well, technically it started with us going on a hunt,” Dean points out. He licks his lips, jaw clenching. “I mean, there was Heaven, too, and that was pretty cool.” Sam stares at him. “Sorry, man, but that just sounds pretty lame.” He leans back and folds his arms. “Kinda sounds like something Chuck would cook up. Just you and me. No one else. I mean, really?” *~*~* In which some people come back, Cas learns to be human (the right way, this time), Dean Winchester finally realizes that good things do happen, and they all get their version of the post-credits, apple-pie life they deserved. AKA: Screw Chuck's narrative.

#destiel trope collection #destiel trope collection 2023 #destiel #fanfic #s15 fix its #day 2

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